


Cashmere and Silk

by SumeragiSakura



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Lestrade, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blowjobs, Heat Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Mycroft, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, background Johnlock, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2018-12-30 00:23:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12096651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SumeragiSakura/pseuds/SumeragiSakura
Summary: Even the ice man heats up on occasion. What's an unbonded omega to do?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own them, I just wanted to play with them for a bit. This is a gratuitous masturbation fic that I'm hoping to turn into full on Mystrade. Not beta'ed and not britpicked, all mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoy it!

Nearly a week of intense oversight, planning, and no small amount of persuasion had an intense situation back under control with minimal casualties. It would only have been 3 days and only one agent lost if some thick headed alpha idiots he was forced to work with would have allowed him complete control of the situation at the very start. Mycroft sighed at the thought as he tried to let go of the tension of the last week.

He sat in the backseat of his government issue car trying to organize his thoughts but found himself distracted. It had been a rather intense week after all. He could feel sweat seeping through his collar even though it was freezing outside. Wiping his forehead with a handkerchief he reached for the control panel turned the heat down to low, then off completely. 

Mycroft lined up his thumb with the end of the umbrella handle and twisted just so to reveal a small bottle of scent blocker. Virtually every employed person was required to wear either maskers or blockers while on the job. They were necessary to ensure important things got done without pheromone interference. Having a few spare bottles on his person wouldn’t be considered unusual, in fact most of his coworkers didn’t bother to hide theirs. Of course the majority of his coworkers didn’t feel they had to. If someone were to discover exactly what went into his scent blocker, well, certainly nothing good would come of it.

He reflexively reapplied the blocker to the base of his neck, then locked the bottle back in his umbrella handle. Bringing his thoughts around to what he may have missed while he was otherwise occupied he checked his personal phone. Mummy had called several times in the past two days, which was unusual for her. She knew his job often prevented him from communication for far longer periods than this. Which could only mean something must have happened. He reluctantly pressed the call button.

She picked up instantly. “Oh Mycroft! Thank heavens one of you still returns my calls.”

Mycroft swallowed a sigh. “Hello Mummy. What happened? Has Daddy fallen while line dancing again?”

“I’ll thank you not to keep teasing your father about that. A fall at our age can be a very serious thing you know.”

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose and let out the sigh from earlier. “Yes Mummy, I apologize. It has been a trying few days.”

Her voice softened at the apology. “Of course dear. I know you’ve been busy but I’m worried about your brother. I haven’t been able to reach him for days.”

Silence. Mycroft was not amused. “And? If you recall he has been known to not return your calls for weeks in the past.”

“I know but it isn’t just Sherlock, it’s John too. We had made plans to meet for dinner on Tuesday night. At that lovely restaurant across town. You know the one. Where we met the Stewarts for dinner that time and they brought their lovely alpha daughter for you to meet? Jackie was it?”

He did remember unfortunately, one of many ill fated attempts his parents had made at matchmaking for him in his youth even after he specifically requested his parents keep his secondary gender to themselves. “I’m sure I don’t. You were talking about Sherlock.”

“Oh of course. We waited for nearly two hours! I called both Sherlock and John but we’ve not heard a peep from either of them this whole time.”

This gave Mycroft pause. John at least would have let them know if something had happened. “Really? Not even a text message?” Mycroft hadn’t gotten any alerts of unusual activity surrounding Baker Street. He pulled out his work phone to double check all the same.

“Nothing. We even stopped by the flat yesterday and no one was home. Not even Mrs. Hudson. Please, can’t you check on them? Your father and I have been worried sick.” 

“Of course, give me an hour or so.” Mycroft rung off and loosened his collar, feeling more exhausted than before. Ever since the debacle with AGRA had been resolved and John had moved back into Baker Street things had been relatively calm. Mycroft hadn't felt the need to have them under active surveillance in months. 

Cold dread seeped into Mycroft’s chest despite the warmth in the car. No, it wouldn’t do for him to imagine the worst now before he had all the facts. He unlocked his business phone and got to work.

\-----

Some time later Mycroft found himself outside DI Lestrade’s office. He knew from his team’s reports that Lestrade would be in today and that he was also the last person, besides possibly Mrs. Hudson, to see his wayward little brother and his companion. 

The rest of the reports were unhelpful for the most part. Mrs. Hudson had left earlier last week to stay with her sister who had had surgery recently. She was expected to be away for at least another week. As for Sherlock and John there wasn’t a whole lot of new information. No one had been seen entering or leaving the flat since they had returned home the previous Sunday. By all accounts they should still be there, but as Mycroft had discovered first hand they were not.

He was relieved to see no signs of foul play upon inspection of the flat. No signs of struggle, no valuables taken, necessities such as phones and wallets were gone. It appeared they had simply stepped out and not returned for a few days. Which, barring the involvement of a very clever kidnapper, meant that Sherlock had taken measures to ensure they weren't seen as they left. 

While not under active surveillance there were still several CCTV cameras capturing all comings and goings on Baker Street, all of which were in perfect working order the entire time. He was reasonably sure that they were fine wherever they had taken themselves off to. He even suspected that this was part of an elaborate ruse to annoy him personally. But the fact that he still didn’t know with absolute certainty was unacceptable, so here he was to see if the inspector knew anything more.

As Mycroft stepped inside he instantly caught Lestrade's alpha scent. The standard issue NSY scent maskers never covered it completely. He must have left only a few moments prior to Mycroft’s arrival. His gaze swept around the office, tiny in comparison to even his smallest one but full of little personal tokens to make it less dreary. Smiling photos of himself with his daughter on holiday. A small trophy from a when his weekend football league had won a tournament a few years ago. His overcoat and scarf were carelessly thrown over one of the chairs facing the desk.

Still feeling overheated himself Mycroft shed his own coat and hung it on the rack by the door. He turned to the chair to examine the scarf. It was newer, light grey in color and clearly a higher quality than the ones he usually saw the DI wearing. He rubbed an edge between his thumb and forefinger. Cashmere/silk blend, a luxury item. Not the sort of accessory Lestrade would typically buy for himself. A gift then, most certainly. But from whom? It was from someone he liked at least - he had been wearing it nearly every day for two months or so. 

He had picked up the garment and found himself caressing it, the softness easing the exhaustion he had been feeling all day. As he forced himself to put it down his arm felt as though it were moving in slow motion back to his side. As if it had it’s own mind and wanted nothing more than to return to the plush, decadent fibers. 

Mycroft gave his head a violent shake, chastising himself as he did so. He could not afford to entertain these daydreams again, especially not with the object of said dreams within reach. He had worked damn hard to get to where he was. To put himself in a position where it could all be taken from him simply because he found a certain alpha attractive would be insanity. 

_But the divorce has been finalized for months. You know he won’t be single forever._ Damn his treacherous thoughts! _What is wrong with me?_

He reached for his little bottle of scent blocker and dabbed a drop under his nose. Then he took a deep breath from the open bottle before tucking it away again.

He only just began contemplating what could have happened to make his carefully cultivated controls go out the window when he heard footsteps approaching the door. He looked up, face neutral.

Lestrade stepped in, nose in a file and coffee in hand, bringing with him a fresh waft of his enamoring alpha scent. Mycroft could somehow detect it even through his freshly applied scent blockers - the singular alpha musk that belonged to him alone accented with hints of cedar, bergamot, cinnamon, tobacco smoke, and coffee of course.

Mycroft watched as Lestrade’s face brightened. He had to remind himself to breathe as Lestrade's lips curled into a smile. _He couldn’t possibly be happy to see me? No one is ever happy to see me._

“Oh hey there Mycroft. What brings you down here?”

“Hello Inspector. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Well, the work never stops around here, but I think I could spare a minute.” His smile slid into a smirk. “This is about Sherlock isn’t it?”

“Isn’t everything?” 

“Fair point.”

“Have you spoken with him lately? Or with Dr. Watson?”

“Nope, last saw them last Sunday as we were wrapping up the Barnes case.” Mycroft narrowed his stare at him.

“You know where they went.”

“No, not precisely. I didn’t want them to go into much detail to be honest.”

“But you know they aren’t in danger.”

Lestrade looked over his shoulder, then moved to close the door and a shiver raced up Mycroft’s spine. Being closed in a small space with the alpha he had long desired was not helping Mycroft’s control issue. He fought to keep his breathing steady and his expression disinterested.

“Yeah, unless you know something I don’t. Did something happen?”

“That is what I am endeavoring to find out. It seems no one has heard from or seen them since Sunday.”

The smile returned, lighting Lestrade’s face beautifully. “No worries then. I’d say they should be back sometime within the next couple days.” He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. “They say the first heat after you’ve stopped taking suppressors for can last two or three days longer than usual. Can you imagine?”

Mycroft could feel the warmth rush up his neck and into his cheeks as Lestrade gazed at him, mischief shining in those richly colored eyes. His throat was suddenly very dry. “You mean Sherlock and…”

“Yup. They’ll be bonded when they get back for sure.”

“But he has sworn for years he would never give them up, even under threat of death. You and I both know my brother is not one to be easily persuaded. How do you know this?”

Lestrade sighed. “I know the signs of impending heat when I see them. All day on Sunday Sherlock was flushed and sweaty. He wasn’t even wearing his coat and it was damn cold out. John was completely distracted, watching him even more intensely than usual. Mind you, I didn’t even know that was possible. The moment we had our killer Sherlock looked like he was about to crawl out of his skin. I know you both think I’m some kind of moron but I did get this job on my own merits.” 

The last bit he said without any bite, but Mycroft felt the need to correct him anyway. “I never said I thought you were a moron.”

“Oh, well, my mistake then.” That roguish grin was back. Mycroft swallowed, trying not to stare. He focused his gaze on a file cabinet to Lestrade's right. 

“My little brother bonded. I can’t say I’m surprised with that pair. Still, part of me thought I’d never see the day Sherlock would willingly give up the suppressants. I’m sure Mummy will forgive them instantly when she hears.”

“Mummy?”

“They made and abandoned plans with our parents leading to my little investigation today. She was quite concerned.” He frowned. “Honestly. Why couldn’t he be responsible just once? How difficult is it to send a quick message and avoid contributing to our parents collective high blood pressure?”

Lestrade chuckled. “Oh you know how it gets when the pheromones get thick. Rational thought kind of goes out the window when heat comes on.”

“Well that’s fine for Sherlock, but it doesn’t excuse Dr. Watson.”

Both of Lestrade’s eyebrows shot up. “I think it does. Rut triggered by an omega’s heat is pretty intense. Haven’t you ever shared an omega’s heat before?”

Mycroft had no answer to that. Once his first heat was over he immediately went on suppressants and birth control. The majority of his teenage years were devoted to actively hiding his secondary gender, presenting himself as an alpha whenever possible. This included never letting anyone close enough to possibly discover the truth. He wasn’t completely inexperienced sexually but shared heats were far too intimate to risk. 

Lestrade became concerned at his lengthy silence. “Hey, I’m sorry if I got too personal there. I mean, you have a good job, no small amount of power, and you’re rather handsome. I figured omegas would be lining up at your door.”

Ordinarily he would correct Lestrade's assumption about his level of power but handsome echoed loudly in Mycroft’s ears. “Inspector…” his voice chose that moment to give out.

“I have a name you know Mycroft. We’ve been over this before.” He teased.

They had discussed this several times. However Mycroft privately insisted on calling him anything else even in his own mind to keep at least that thin barrier between them. Though he knew it was dangerous at this moment he wanted that barrier gone.

“Gregory” he breathed and Gregory’s eyes flew to meet his, wide with surprise. All thoughts fled Mycroft’s brain. The fluttery tension in Mycroft’s gut intensified as Gregory's expression gradually shifted from confused to smoldering.

The phone rang and shattered the moment. Lestrade jumped at the jarring sound and looked to his caller id. Mycroft sucked in a breath. He needed to get out of here as soon as possible before he did something irreversible. But his legs wouldn’t obey his hazy brain at the moment.

Lestrade’s voice broke through the fog. “Sorry Mycroft, I have to take this. If I see them I’ll give them the business for making your Mum worry.” 

He couldn’t bring himself to meet Lestrade’s eyes again. “Thank you, please do. Good day Inspector.”

\------

Once outside NSY the crisp February air cleared Mycroft’s thoughts just enough for him to realize what had almost happened in that office. He must have been right on the edge of his heat all day. In all likelihood Gregory’s scent had accelerated the process. He had been a hair’s breadth away from jumping over the desk and licking a stripe up his neck, eager to hear the sound he would make. What was worse, he couldn’t decide whether he was grateful or incredibly disappointed. Honestly he was leaning toward the latter. 

His brain helpfully supplied him with further images of what could have been. Running his fingers through that silky silver hair. Burying his nose at the juncture of neck and shoulder where his Alpha scent would be strongest. Finally tasting Gregory’s lips, gently nipping at them until he opened for him. Spreading himself naked over his desk, sliding his fingers down around his own cock while Gregory hungrily watched.

_Oh god how did I not notice this sooner!?_ He immediately notified Anthea, one of the chosen few from whom his omega status could not be hidden. She confirmed seconds later and he was safe for the next few hours.

Mycroft had not experienced a full on heat since his very first one at 15. Ugh, he still shuddered at what little memory he had of that mortifying experience. One should never have to experience heat with one’s family in the same house. On suppressants his heats had been easily managed or more often ignored though they never got rid of them completely. 

Recently he had been experiencing more severe symptoms. They didn’t last nearly as long as a full blown heat but they were just as intense. The longest he’d been indisposed so far was an afternoon, approximately 4 hours. It was still damned inconvenient at best and potentially dangerous at worst. He had done a bit of research as to why this was happening but was disappointed at what few answers he found. The next step would be a visit to the doctor to figure out the best course of action, though he didn’t expect much.

By the time he got home his clothes clung and chafed terribly. Once safely inside he began tearing his clothes off, discarding items as he made his way to the bedroom. The suit jacket he kept with him. As soon as the bedroom door was locked he slid his trousers and pants off together in one smooth motion. Blissfully bare he still felt as though he was burning up from the inside. The familiar bereft feeling simmered low in his abdomen and had begun occasionally flaring into pain.

He tossed the jacket over the chair in the corner. His average size omega cock stood ready, drops of precome already gathered at his slit. He took himself in hand and squeezed. The resulting sensation drew a breathy moan from his throat. He immediately became aware of the growing dampness between his thighs. He reached his free hand behind him and gasped at just how wet he had become. Sopping was a more accurate description.

He slid his fingers through the slick to find his entrance while slowly stroking his cock with the other hand. A finger pad circled the sensitive opening until it yielded to the gentle pressure. He pressed a fingertip inside and was rewarded with a filthy pulse of liquid over his fingers. His cock jumped and wept more clear fluid over his knuckles.

Oh, that was excellent but he knew it ultimately wouldn't be enough. It took considerable effort to stop himself and collect a few necessary items before losing himself to lust completely. He retrieved a box of alpha size dildos, with and without knots, from a tucked away space in his walk in closet. He had been forced to start a collection within the past year and was thoroughly embarrassed by it the rest of the time. Also within the box was a bottle of lube though he hardly ever needed it. 

He set the box by the bedside and crawled up on top. Starting on all fours he resumed what he had started previously. One hand went to his prick, cupping his small omega balls gently before resuming his leisurely stroking. He leaned down into the pillow, freeing up his other hand to resume his earlier exploration. Without hesitation he plunged a finger into himself right up to the knuckle. It went easily and he soon added a second finger. The muscle tightened around them and he simply enjoyed the feeling of pushing them in and out for a while, slick pouring out of him and feeding his passion.

All the while he was breathing in his own unmasked omega scent from the bedclothes. He could also smell the scent blocker still clinging to his skin. It was specially formulated to block out his natural omega scent and mimic that of an alpha wearing a pheromone masker. Unfortunately in Mycroft's heat addled state this combination of scents irritated him. As his level of arousal climbed it became more and more distracting.

He flipped onto his side angrily, not able to do much for a moment or two but squirm in discomfort and intense frustration. Once he was able he walked over to the chair where he’d left his suit jacket. He reached into a pocket and withdrew a sinfully soft grey scarf, carefully folded so it wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone observing him. 

The instant the scarf was free of his jacket Gregory's alpha scent hit Mycroft so hard he felt lightheaded. His prick instantly became rock hard, straining toward his stomach and leaking copiously. He held the garment at the end and allowed it to unravel, releasing more alpha scent into the air. His blood sang with arousal. As he reached the edge of the bed he unabashedly buried his face in the fabric and breathed in deeply. Suddenly the gnawing empty feeling in his gut was all consuming. He needed to be thoroughly fucked, knotted, and bred right this instant.

He selected a knotted alpha toy that he deduced would be about the same size as Gregory’s and set it aside. What would Gregory do in the unlikely event that he stumbled into this room right now? Seeing Mycroft spread out like this while wantonly breathing his scent from a stolen personal item of his? His omega brain conjured Greg’s voice for him, two steps lower than his normal speaking voice.

_‘My god Mycroft, just look at you. All this just for me?’_

Mycroft only whimpered in reply as he resumed fucking himself on his fingers, incapable of speech at the moment.

A deep growl escaped his Gregory’s throat. _‘You know that won’t satisfy you. I know exactly what you need.’_

Here Mycroft reached for the dildo. He imagined Greg pulling his hand away and replacing it with his own achingly stiff alpha prick. His omega brain piped up informing him that the real thing would be vastly better than a cold alpha toy but he ignored it. He positioned the head right at his opening and applying barely any pressure held it there.

_‘I’ll take good care of you. All you have to do is ask.’_

“Mmmhh”

_‘I didn’t quite catch that.’_

He increased and decreased the pressure against his entrance, teasing himself without penetration. “Please” he breathed and allowed the tip to breach the softened muscle just a bit.

_‘Please what? I want to hear you say it.’_

His neglected cock twitched beneath him. “Please Gregory. Fuck me.”

_‘Good, now was that so difficult?’_

He pushed in further and gasped, delighting in the sensation of being slowly stretched and filled. Pleasure coiled low easing some of the emptiness. He wouldn’t last much longer now. He remained on his knees but lifted his upper body upright. The scarf remained on the pillow and the loss of Gregory's scent was maddening. Positioning the base of the dildo on his heels he carefully sank further onto it until he could feel the artificial knot. He then returned his attention to his cock, stroking roughly, intermittently focusing stimulation on the tip. He grabbed the edge of the scarf with his other hand and brought it up to his nose. It would be nearly impossible to thrust the dildo into himself like this, so he settled for rolling his hips. He quickly found a delicious rhythm and moaned his pleasure into the scarf.

_‘Oh good god that’s amazing. You’re so tight for me, my Mycroft. You could come just like this couldn't you?’_

Mycroft shook his head. “Not… like this. I need … you to…” He sat back to gently push against the knot, eager to feel that extra stretch.

_‘Need me to what? Let me hear it and I'll do whatever you want.’_

Mycroft swallowed. “Knot me. Dear god… please Gregory, I need to feel your knot inside me.”

His request became a moan as he sat back fully, pressing the knot inside bit by bit. With one last push his body locked on and his pleasure rolled through him. An obscene amount of come spilled over his fist onto the bedclothes, the pillow, the scarf. His vision faded as he collapsed onto the mess not caring one bit as his orgasm raced through his body, his mind completely blank.

It took several hours of similar activity using nearly every alpha toy he owned before Mycroft felt the cloud of lust begin to lift. Physically he felt fantastic if a bit worn out and desperately in need of a shower. Mentally however he was disgusted with himself. That he even had these biological impulses was bad enough, but that he would resort to thievery to help satisfy those urges was unforgivable. 

He showered and set about cleaning up his own mess. Besides being extremely embarrassing he didn’t trust the cleaning service enough to keep his omega status quiet. He wouldn’t even let them clean his bedroom under normal circumstances for that reason.

There was not a single clean spot left on the bed. He picked up the scarf and examined it, ultimately deeming it unsalvageable. It was soaked through with various fluids that would be difficult to get out entirely without ruining the fabric. 

Though the thought of somehow cleaning it, returning it, and Gregory wearing it in public appealed to his primal side immensely. Mycroft pictured Gregory wrapped up snugly at a crime scene shouting orders at people, all the while picking up traces of his own omega scent from the fibers. Of him unconsciously nuzzling deeper to better capture it. Mycroft's exhausted cock gave an enthusiastic twitch.

He winced in discomfort and sighed. To think that he could sink so low. He would have to make it up to Lestrade in some way but without him noticing. 

_So what if he did notice? Would it really be the worst thing in the world?_ Mycroft studiously ignored his own question and continued stripping the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Mycroft realizes he's in much deeper than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and kind comments on chapter 1! Here I present chapter 2 for your enjoyment. Still don't own them. Still not beta'ed or britpicked.

A few days later Sherlock and John resurfaced in Baker Street. Just as Lestrade had predicted Sherlock had a freshly healing bond bite where his left shoulder met his neck. He purposefully displayed it for CCTV, unnecessarily turning this way and that as he walked up Baker Street to ensure every camera got a full glimpse of it under his coat collar. Poor confused John watched him parade about fondly. 

_Cheeky little brat as always._ Mycroft decided he would repay them for their earlier carelessness by going to congratulate them on their bonding personally. Sherlock so loved it when he came round to visit after all.

As the car pulled up to the kerb outside 221 he spotted none other than Lestrade standing there facing away from the street. Their last meeting had ended somewhat awkwardly but now that his heat had passed Mycroft was confident he could carry on a conversation with him in an entirely platonic way. He wiped his expression and calmly stepped out of the car, hoping his bubbling excitement wasn’t obvious.

“Hello Inspector.” He said smoothly as he approached. Mycroft noted the cheap, itchy poly blend scarf he had been forced to wear and felt a pang of guilt.

Lestrade didn’t even turn his head. “Mycroft.” Cold and distracted, so unlike his usual greetings. Mycroft worried for a moment that he might be angry about their last meeting. _Of course he’s angry, he knows you’re a thief!_ Mycroft stiffened where he stood, pulling himself up to his full height. “Might I ask what you are doing here?”

Lestrade turned to face him and Mycroft was shocked. The man looked dead on his feet. Eyes bloodshot, skin pale and clammy with sweat, bags under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days. Most startling was the overwhelming urge Mycroft felt to see him well again.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, I’m a bit spacey today Mycroft. I came here to see Himself and get his opinion about this case.” He gently slapped a thick file folder against his palm. “The higher ups are breathing down my neck on this one since they found another body.”

_Oh thank god._ Relief eased Mycroft’s tension instantly. “Not to offend, but you hardly seem fit to be investigating anything at the moment.”

Lestrade’s glassy eyes met his with a guilty expression. “It’s that obvious, is it?” 

“I’m afraid so, yes. Why don’t you let me give you a ride home? You can call your office from the car.”

“Oh I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s my own stubborn fault I’m even here. And this case…”

“Please, I insist.” _Please Gregory._ He mentally slapped himself. _Focus!_

Lestrade wobbled a bit on his feet and Mycroft moved in close in case he needed to catch him. The driver got out of the car, alarmed at Lestrade’s proximity to his boss. 

“But, I really…” 

“Need to go home and rest, quite right.” He held up a hand to dismiss the driver and slid his other arm around Lestrade’s shoulders, guiding him to the car. A joyous feeling bloomed in Mycroft's chest as he did so. _My alpha._ He sharply shook the thought out of his head while he was still out of Lestrade’s line of vision.

Lestrade settled into the seat and instantly tipped his head back on the headrest, closing his eyes for a few moments while Mycroft gave the driver instructions. As the car pulled into traffic Lestrade looked at Mycroft pitifully. “I’m really sorry to put you out like this.” 

“It’s no trouble at all. My business with them will keep for a while longer.” Mycroft tilted his head in the direction of 221B.

Lestrade chuckled weakly. “Try not to embarrass them too badly.”

Mycroft couldn’t help grinning back, feeling a strange sense of pride. Lestrade really was more perceptive than he let on. “I’m sure I have no idea what you are referring to.”

“Right, of course not.” He tried valiantly to keep his eyes open. “I suppose my business with them will have to wait too, though I wish it didn’t have to. There could be who knows how many more murders in the time I’m lazing about.”

“Your team will continue investigating in your absence.”

“You and I both know he'd have it solved in half the time. And no one on my team will deal with him directly.”

Mycroft thought for a moment, hesitated. It wasn't like him to reveal the extent of his own deductive skills to anyone outside of his coworkers and family. It was far better to have everyone either underestimate him or not know he was involved at all. But if it would help Lestrade rest easier he could make an exception.

“I could look at it for you. The case.” He clarified.

Lestrade looked at him skeptically. “I didn’t realize investigation was a family hobby.”

“It is not, however deduction is a skill my brother and I share.” He bit down to keep the _though I’m far better at it_ hovering on the tip of his tongue.

Lestrade looked torn and Mycroft read his thoughts on his face as clearly as if he were speaking them. He was weighing saving lives against possibly getting in trouble for allowing him, a complete outsider, to see official police documents unauthorized. 

“I can assure you my clearance is high enough for anything you might show me.” This was not exactly a lie. Either way he would make sure Lestrade wouldn't see any ill effects in the unlikely event he was caught.

Lestrade was still unsure. “I can’t let you take the file though, just like I couldn’t leave it with Sherlock. A lot of this information is considered classified.” He held the enormous file out to him with both hands. “I’m not sure how much you’ll be able to find in a ten minute car ride.”

“Oh no, I can’t read in a moving vehicle for long. Motion sickness. I’ll have to look it over when we get to your flat.” 

“My flat??” He squeaked.

“Yes, that is where we are headed. Unless you have some objection?”

Lestrade hesitated. “Not really, its just… it’s not anything fancy. It’s actually kind of small.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him “And?”

“And I might not have had a chance to clean in a while.” He rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Oh honestly Gregory! Now is not the time for embarrassment. I’m offering to help you, not pass judgement upon your living arrangements. I promise I’ll not wither and die in your messy, perfectly average bachelor flat.”

Lestrade boggled for a moment, then chuckled again. “You finally remembered.”

“Remembered what?”

“To use my first name without my having to remind you. It only took, what, 8 years?”

He honestly hadn’t meant to do that. Seeing how pleased it made Gregory when he was clearly miserable was enough to make him momentarily forget why he had insisted on formality before. 

“So I did. I remembered previously you know. I simply… did not do it.” He cringed internally as the words left his mouth. He hadn’t intended to create an opening for Gregory to ask why.

“Really? Well I’m glad you finally did. And you can come in when we get there. But when the rats get you don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Rats!?” Gregory’s eyes sparkled with mirth at Mycroft’s horrified expression. He stifled more laughter behind a closed fist as Mycroft glared at him with a barely concealed grin. 

“You make teasing you way too easy. Who would have guessed?” He eased his head back onto the headrest and closed his eyes again.

“Prat.” Mycroft replied, secretly enjoying the warm feeling spreading in his chest. _Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing after all, if he knew._

\----- 

Mycroft was thankful that Gregory’s flat was not actually rat infested, though it was a bit lived in. Nothing unexpected given the demands of his job and a lack of time. 

Even so Mycroft experienced a very strong urge to clean the moment he stepped inside. That and to inspect the contents of the fridge and pantry to ensure there was edible food. Both he found absolutely ridiculous as he had never been domestically inclined in his entire life. Damn omega hormones no doubt. He ignored these urges as best he could. 

He was again thankful that his heat had recently passed. The area was infused with Gregory’s alpha scent so thoroughly his head swam a bit even now. He felt he could happily drown himself in it. If this situation had happened a few days ago he would have been unable to guarantee his actions regardless of Gregory's health. 

Poor Gregory still looked about ready to drop. “I’ll just leave the file here for you. I need to go see about some medicine, maybe change out of these clothes.”

“Of course.” He disappeared into a back room and Mycroft turned his attention to the fridge. All full of takeout boxes and beer as expected. He pulled out his phone and sent a few messages to Anthea, fearing his voice would carry to Gregory’s ears should he place a phone call.

That taken care of he opened the case file. There was a mountain of information to sift through. Vital information on each victim, crime scene information and photos, lists of family and friends, interviews with suspects, just to name a few. Gregory must have printed all this out to avoid giving Sherlock laptop access to NSY files when he wasn’t well enough to supervise him. _Smart man._

He found himself unable to concentrate fully on the file at first. After about 20 minutes Gregory had not emerged so Mycroft crept into his room to check on him. He had evidently changed into a soft t-shirt and pants, then laid down for a moment on top of his disheveled blankets and promptly fallen asleep. 

Mycroft was relieved. Rest was the best thing for him at this point. He ventured over to cover him with a spare blanket, surreptitiously brushing his hair from his forehead. It was just as silky as he had imagined. He was strongly tempted to stay and keep watch should he need anything but that wouldn’t help Gregory most at the moment. He softly shut the door and returned to the case file.

He was interrupted only once via text when his cleaning service arrived. He instructed the workers to be as quiet as possible and to not enter Gregory’s bedroom, then returned to work.

It took a few hours and several discreet phone calls for him to arrive at his conclusion. He did not want to disturb Gregory to explain it, so he decided to write it out for him to read when he awoke. They would need evidence to confirm his suspicion of course but Mycroft was confident that he had found the solution.

While he wrote he got a text and went to answer the door. Anthea stood there holding a takeout bag and looking rather bemused. “How is the patient sir?”

“Still sleeping. I believe I’ll leave him to it. If you’ll wait in the car for about 15 more minutes I’ll come with you to the office.” She nodded and turned away, heels clicking down the hall. Once he stored the contents of the bag in the refrigerator he continued his report.

_Gregory,_

_Please forgive me for not being able to stay until you woke. In addition to having your flat cleaned I have left you some chicken soup fresh from my favorite bistro. Please make an attempt to eat it when you wake up._

_I have looked over your case and I feel I have accurately determined the most likely suspect. Amanda Thomas, 32 year old omega and twin sister of Emma Wilson, also omega. Emma was the bondmate of one of your victims - Gabriel Wilson, alpha, alcoholic and abusive cheater. Amanda and Emma were extremely close and Amanda was very much against her sister’s relationship with Gabriel according to reports from friends and family. After their bonding his treatment of Emma became worse as evidenced by the multiple domestic violence reports filed against him. He disappeared 7 months ago and Emma committed suicide two weeks after he was reported missing. The first body was discovered approximately 4 months ago. His body was found more recently but in a more advanced state of decay than the others._

_I postulate that Amanda became enraged on her sister’s behalf and brutally murdered Gabriel in an impressive fit of rage considering their relative sizes and secondary genders. She managed to dispose of the body so thoroughly that no one knew for certain he was dead until his body was discovered. At the time everyone believed he had simply abandoned Emma, who was then in the early stages of pregnancy. Devastated that her bondmate left her Emma committed suicide, thus leaving Amanda with enough guilt and rage to inspire a killing spree. She targets alphas like her brother in law – large, aggressive, and perceived by her to be wronging their bondmate in some way. As you already know all of the victims have multiple domestic violence charges on their records. The victims more than readily went with Amanda, seeing her only as a harmless omega._

_The public will have a difficult time believing such a seemingly delicate omega woman could commit such heinous acts. She is fully aware of the advantage her omega status grants her in this way. Whether you choose Sherlock or one of your sergeants to gather the evidence against her they will need to tread carefully and thoroughly if you are to be successful in convicting her. Good luck._

\- _M_

Thirty minutes later, after checking on Gregory once or twice more, he settled in the back seat of the car. Anthea scrutinized him openly and Mycroft simply stared back impassively. Anthea was the first to crack.

“Does he know?”

“No, and he will not if I have anything to do with it.”

“With all due respect sir, you just did several very classic omega things. If you aren’t more careful it may not be up to you in the end.” 

He acknowledged that remark with a disgruntled hum and turned toward the window. He may not want to admit it but she had a valid point. Gregory was no fool. All of his logical thoughts on the matter had dissipated again, this time in the face of Gregory’s distress. This was truly becoming dangerous. He would need to keep his distance for a while after this or he would be discovered for sure. 

\----- 

As luck would have it some unfortunate foreign officials needed a personal reminder of the consequences of crossing him. Mycroft was more than happy to oblige them. A few weeks overseas would make it easy to maintain his distance from a certain DI. Perhaps he could regain some of his iron clad self control in that time as well. 

As he was preparing for his trip Lestrade called him a few times, once in the morning and another two times in the afternoon. Mycroft ignored each call while attempting to focus on work. The third call was followed up by a voice message. The little green notification light on his phone sat blinking at the edge of his desk.

He forced his eyes forward only to feel them slide sideways moments later. Blink… blink. He flipped the damn phone over and buried himself in reports with renewed focus. About an hour after that he heard the text alert. It sounded again a few moments later. Dammit, he had a flight to catch at 6:30 am and he’d never be ready at this pace.

**Dabbling in criminal investigations now are we brother? – SH**

**Don’t you have anything better to do? Terrorists to interrogate? Cakes to eat? – SH**

Mycroft smirked. He must have really pissed Sherlock off if he was already resorting to cake based taunts. Another text came through as he read.

**You never tell me the answer in advance. – SH**

**I don’t always know the answer in advance brother mine. – M**

A pause -

**I’m printing that out and framing it. It’ll accent the mantel perfectly. – SH**

**Was there some purpose to your bothering me? Would you prefer if I came round for tea and solved all your cases for you? – M**

**Of course not. But I suspect Lestrade would be more than happy if you came around more often. – SH**

Insufferable meddling twat. Sherlock had a habit of threatening to reveal Mycroft’s omega status to Lestrade whenever he wanted to rile him up. He had noticed Mycroft’s interest from the very first moment he laid eyes on the man despite being off his tits on cocaine at the time. Over the course of their association Lestrade continually proved himself trustworthy, dependable, and fearless. As a result Mycroft’s regard for him grew nearly every time they met. And since they only knew each other through Sherlock, he was also there nearly every time taking detailed mental notes to use against Mycroft later. Mycroft was ready for him this time though.

**Just as I suspect Mummy would be more than happy if you and your new bondmate would take her to see the latest revival of _Cats_ next weekend. – M**

A longer pause this time -

**You wouldn’t. – SH**

**Oh wouldn’t I? Stay out of this Sherlock. – M**

Then, as an afterthought - 

**Congratulations by the way. I am truly happy for you. – M**

He turned his personal phone off after that, unwilling to keep up with a childish bickering session when there was work to be done. Only hours later when every last report had been analyzed, every meeting set, and all his bags packed did he turn the phone back on. Back texts came in one after the other.

**Thank you. – SH**

**I was being serious you know. Whatever you did the man is praising you up and down. – SH**

**It’s revolting. – SH**

**He sounds like a bloody schoolgirl! What have you done to him? – SH**

**I can’t take much more of this! – SH**

Then, time stamped much later, presumably after Sherlock's dramatic attempts to bait him into further conversation had failed – 

**You should talk to him. – SH**

Mycroft rubbed at his temple with his free hand. Sherlock had never bothered to hide his secondary gender from anyone and did not understand Mycroft's continued insistence on hiding his. He didn’t bother to send a response.

Then there was the voice message notification still sitting innocently at the top of the screen. How could one tiny icon inspire such anxiety?

_Don’t be ridiculous. You know why he's calling. You are above this. You’ve always been above this._ He opened the voicemail app and listened.

‘Hi Mycroft, um, it’s just me. Greg. Erm, sorry to bother you but I wanted to thank you for the other day. I don’t think my flat’s been that clean since I moved in! Anyway, uhm, you were a big help and I’m really grateful. And I was, um, hoping I could repay the favor sometime. Seriously, if you ever need my help with anything just give a call. Thanks again. Bye!’

_See, now was that so difficult?_ Mycroft took the phone away from his ear as a pre-recorded voice informed him of his options. To delete press 7, to repeat press 4, to save press 9, and so on. His thumb hovered over the keypad for a moment. He remained frozen like that until the automated voice began it's speech over again. Mycroft sighed, pressed 4, then held the phone to his ear once more.

‘Hi Mycroft, um, it’s just me. Greg…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you guys think? Be sure to let me know in the comments! It will probably take me longer to update next time but there will be at least one more chapter. I just can't leave poor Mycroft all alone like this!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft closes himself off. Sherlock and John decide he needs a little help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay chapter 3! Previous notes still apply. Also I didn't mention this before and I'm sure you guys can tell by now, but this story is not S4 compliant and Eurus doesn't exist. Enjoy!

Mycroft usually left long diplomatic trips to his more outgoing colleagues. He found having to be personable for so long exhausting and longed for the solitude of his private study at the Diogenes quite often. His thoughts may have returned once or twice to warm eyes and a soothing voice asking him to ‘give a call’ but he quickly dismissed them in favor of work.

Alpha posturing and forced socialization aside he was generally pleased with his trip overall. He was able to get far more accomplished than any of his peers could have and he was fully distracted from his personal problems at the same time. In addition he got an excellent reminder as to why it was so important he keep his secondary gender a secret.

He did not meet a single omega during any official business. Being omega he was rather good at picking out others hiding in plain view like himself. They only appeared during dinner parties and other social events where the bondmates of the alpha officials were expected to be in attendance. Even then they were kept segregated. Dressed exquisitely in rich colors and sparkling fabrics with polite smiles on their faces they dined quietly alongside their alphas, not allowed to leave their side the entire night. Quite a few of them were visibly pregnant. 

The unspoken rule at gatherings such as these was that no alpha could speak to an omega they were not bonded to and no omega could speak unless spoken to first. As such they were as much decoration as the chandelier or the centerpieces.

This was the case in many countries. Omegas were still considered rare, delicate, and in need of protection from their alphas. Once their secondary gender was identified their movements were highly restricted. Enrolled in special omega schools they were only permitted to associate with other omegas and their own family members. Once they reached their first heat they were often bonded to the highest bidder, destined to breed and raise as many children as they could possibly bear for their alpha. Or worse, they could be sold to the slave trade, destined for servicing as many alphas as possible only to be turned out when they got too old.

Mycroft felt sick to consider either option might have been his life at one time. It was far too easy to forget that this had been the way of the world for virtually all omegas even in Britain until the Omega Rights Act some 90 years past. A mere moment ago in the grand scheme of history and not nearly enough time for omegas to make much headway. That he held the position he did was nothing short of a miracle. Something he needed to keep in mind the next time he found himself tempted by Lestrade’s boyish grin.

Despite all of this, upon returning to London one of the first things he did was check his personal phone. He had left it locked up at the Diogenes for security reasons. There were a handful of missed calls, two of which were from Lestrade from a few days ago. There were no new messages. He called his voicemail to be sure. 

It had to have been about the Thomas case. A quick internet search revealed a plethora of sensationalist headlines appearing the day after Lestrade had called. “OMEGA SCHOOLTEACHER INDICTED FOR MURDER”, “BODY PARTS FOUND IN OMEGA HOME”, “ALPHA BUTCHER IS AN OMEGA?!?”, and probably least clever of all, “ALPHAS BLEED, OMEGAS KILL!”. It was a pathetic attempt to play off of the old schoolyard taunt “Alphas Lead, Omegas Breed.” Mycroft loathed that saying with his entire being. 

Well at least he had been able to help. That was fine. Good even. He toyed with his phone for a few moments longer, swiping through the screens with no purpose in mind. Frustratingly nothing happened. No new texts, no phone calls. Which was exactly what he wanted. Right. He tossed his phone back into his desk drawer and locked it up again.

\-----

“My brother is an idiot.” Sherlock said as he entered the sitting room.

“Hmm?” John, seated at the desk, didn’t even look up from his laptop.

“Mycroft. He's an idiot. Don’t make me repeat myself John, it’s tedious.”

John shrugged, still not looking up. “Sorry. Why? We haven’t even heard from him in weeks.” He said distractedly as he pecked out another word on the keyboard.

“It doesn't matter if we never hear from him again. The fact remains.” 

John finally paused and looked at Sherlock, sensing this topic wasn’t going away. “Alright, what’s he done this time? Did he steal another case from you?”

Sherlock flopped dramatically into his chair. “He didn’t _steal_ anything from me. That case was barely a 2. Hardly worth my time. If Lestrade’s lackeys were any good at their jobs they would have solved it ages ago.”

John considered this. “Even so you have to admit it was pretty impressive.” Sherlock whipped his head around to glare at John as he spoke. John continued unfazed. “Amanda Thomas was barely mentioned in that case file. She certainly wasn’t anywhere close to being a suspect. Here it turns out her basement is essentially a graveyard and no one suspected at all.”

Sherlock’s face grew darker and sulkier as he listened. “I’ll admit no such thing. Anyone can read a case file and toss out theories John! It’s being able to prove it with certainty that’s usually the difficult part. Unless you have a culprit so inept as Ms. Thomas.” Her name slid out of his mouth dripping with contempt.

John still privately thought Sherlock would have liked to be the one to catch her, inept or not, but wisely kept his opinion to himself. “Ok, fine. So what is it then? What’s he done?”

Sherlock held his phone out to John, screen open to a text conversation. “Read this.”

**Has Mycroft come back from his trip yet?**

**Be sure to thank him for me.**

**Why don’t you thank him yourself? – SH**

**I tried. He hasn’t answered me. I don’t want to bother him.**

**So you bother me to bother him instead? – SH**

**Of course. You bother me for cases all the time. It’s only fair.**

John eyebrows furrowed. “So you’re angry at Mycroft for not answering Greg? Why?”

Sherlock shook his head. “Not exactly John. Don’t you see? Mycroft has been back from some business trip for at least two weeks. He’s had plenty of opportunity to call or text Lestrade back. Yet he hasn't.”

John tilted his head to one side. “I still don’t see the issue here. Since when do you care who Mycroft does or doesn’t talk to?”

“I don’t usually. But my brother doesn’t usually go out of his way to help other people personally either. Especially not to the extent he went to help Lestrade. No, something is definitely strange here. Why go to all that trouble for someone only to pull back later?” He paused, then muttered. “Because he’s stubborn as well as an idiot.”

Sherlock resumed thinking, absentmindedly chewing on his thumbnail, when John finally realized.

“Oh, I get it now. You’re worried about him.”

“What?”

“You're worried about him. He has no real friends to speak of and he pushes away anyone who even tries to be friendly with him. You’re concerned that he’s alone too much. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Sherlock sat scowling at the wall and said nothing.

“Oh Sherlock! How sweet.”

“It isn't.” He grumbled.

John got up from his seat at the desk. “Yes it is.” He wanted to hug Sherlock but thought it might be difficult with him all curled up in a contrary ball in his chair. He opted to run his hand over Sherlock’s shoulder and arm affectionately as he passed instead. Then he took a seat in his own comfy chair.

Though he tried to keep pouting, John could see his touch had softened Sherlock. “There’s a bit more to it than that in this case.” Sherlock admitted.

“Tell me.”

He blew out a breath, then straightened up to face John fully. “I think, if he’d stop being so obstinate for once in his life, he would actually find a bondmate.”

This was news to John. “Really? Who?”

Sherlock buried his face in his palm, then raked his hand through his hair with a long suffering sigh.

“What? How would I know? Does Mycroft even know any omegas?”

“Lestrade, John! We’ve been talking about Mycroft and Lestrade the entire time.”

John crinkled his nose. “I don’t know about that Sherlock. Alpha/alpha pairs are rare for a reason. Someone could get seriously hurt if both parties aren’t very careful. Besides I don’t think Greg goes in for alphas.” 

“As always John you see but you do not observe.”

“So you’ve told me.”

Sherlock leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Let’s look the last time Lestrade was over here gushing about my brother.”

“Oh come on, he was hardly gushing.”

“Gushing.” Sherlock looked at John pointedly. “The man was gushing John.” John held up his hands in surrender. “In simple terms, what did Mycroft do?”

“Do? He solved a case for Greg.”

Sherlock scoffed. “Barely. Aside from that.”

“Umm, he gave him a ride home.”

“Right, and Lestrade was ill. One might say he protected him when he was weak. What else?”

“He left him some food in the fridge.”

“Good, he fed him. Provided him with sustenance. Anything else?”

“He cleaned his apartment, or had someone clean it anyway.”

“You call it cleaning, I call it nesting.”

John’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god. Sustain, protect, and shelter?! Mycroft is an omega?”

“Now you’ve got it.”

John huffed out an incredulous laugh. “Of course. It’s not enough for your brother to be some shadowy government figure is it? No one in your family is ordinary, are they?”

“Daddy would be hurt to hear you say that.”

“Even he has his moments. Remember that weird line dancing incident?”

“Hmm. Excellent point but we’re getting off topic.”

“Right. Well, I’ve got to say Mycroft hides it well.”

“He’s been hiding it since we were kids. I’m sure he’s tried every single scent soap, cream, oil, pill, and serum out there. Now that he has the means he has his blocker specially made.”

John considered. “I can see why he’d want to hide it initially. But why keep doing it? You said yourself he is the British Government.”

“I imagine for the same reason he’s always hidden it. He’s afraid that the instant he’s revealed to be an omega he’ll lose the power and respect he’s worked years to gain. But who knows for sure? Perhaps he’s afraid he’ll be fired from his position, bonded to the PM and forced to bear her children for the next 10 years.”

John barked out a laugh. “Now there’s a terrifying picture. Your brother, pregnant with 3 toddlers hanging on him all calling him Mummy.”

“I’m sure he’d agree with you.” Sherlock chuckled.

“So he’s been on heat suppressors even longer than you have. I wonder if he’s been running into the same problem you did.”

Sherlock jumped out of his chair. “That’s it John! That’s the change!”

“Change?”

“Yes! Mycroft has always liked Lestrade but he never did anything about it until now. Why the sudden change?”

John snapped his fingers. “He's been taking suppressors so long they’re losing their effectiveness. He _is_ having the same problem as you.”

“Precisely!”

“If that’s the case then he won’t be able to fight himself for long.”

“Unless he cuts himself off from Lestrade completely.” Sherlock illustrated his point by holding his phone up.

John thought a moment. “Maybe he simply wants to be alone?”

Sherlock looked at John dubiously. “Have you ever seen them together?”

“Now that you mention it, once. Maybe.”

“You can tell easily upon observing them together. Mycroft has convinced himself that being alone is what he wants but it obviously isn’t.”

“Is that right.” John stroked his chin. “So what’s the plan?”

“Pardon?”

“This is clearly bothering you. I’m assuming you have some plan in mind.”

Sherlock opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, then shut it again, looking perplexed. “I must confess I don’t. I’ve never been in the position of matchmaker before.”

John smiled brightly at him, unable to contain his fondness at Sherlock’s adorable expression. “I think I know something we could try. Just a small nudge in the right direction. If you think we should get involved, that is.”

Sherlock sat back in his chair, fingers tented below his chin and the beginnings of a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “What do you suggest, doctor?”

\-----

A few nights later John and Greg sat at the pub, pints in hand and eyes glued to the match on the screen. They typically got together every few weeks or so to watch whatever game happened to be on, have a few pints and unwind. Their conversation picked up as the action on screen wound down.

“So how’s Sherlock? He’s been awfully quiet lately. Has he found a case?”

John nodded into his pint. “You might say so. It’s a small one but it’s keeping him occupied for now.”

“He’s not still miffed about Thomas is he?”

John said nothing but gave Greg the side eye. Greg laughed out loud. 

“I take it he is then.”

“Yeah, maybe next time you get a serial killer case don’t farm it out please.” 

“Right, I’ll try not to.” Greg took another sip of his pint.

“How about on your end? Katie still doing well?”

Greg's face lit up as always when someone mentioned his daughter. “She’s great. Still playing in the university orchestra and pulling in top marks! She’s really working hard with the spring concert coming up.”

“Glad to hear it.” John fidgeted a bit, then took another swig of his beer. There was no way out now. This was half his idea after all. Somewhere out there Sherlock was working on his part. He had to just dive in. “How about on the dating front?”

Greg slumped. “I don’t know about all that anymore John.”

“It’s been nearly a year. Well past time to get back into the game.”

“Yeah. But I still don’t know. No one has really caught my interest and I don’t want to force anything. Maybe I’m too old for this stuff.”

“That’s ridiculous Greg. As it so happens, I know this beta woman…”

Greg groaned. “So does half my staff.”

“Now hold on, hear me out here. There's a beta woman who works at the surgery who might be interested.”

Greg looked doubtful but resigned. “Go on then.”

“Well, she’s a few years younger than you. Name’s Carol. Has one kid. She's very nice and not bad in the looks department.”

“A blind date John? Really?”

“Come on, what’s the worst that could happen? It's just a lunch date, no big deal. She really likes that bistro downtown, _la Morgana._ Goes there every Friday on her break.” 

“During the day? Do people do that now?”

John shrugged. “People have busy lives. This way if there’s no spark you both don’t have to suffer through a whole evening and she doesn’t need to pay a babysitter.”

Greg was not convinced. At that moment Sherlock’s voice repeated in John’s head. _If you mention Mycroft’s name, watch Lestrade's reaction carefully._ John turned his head slightly to watch as he said “Sherlock says that’s the same bistro Mycroft likes. It’s probably the same one he ordered from when he got you that takeout a few weeks ago.”

It was subtle, but John saw the change. Greg’s face brightened and his lips curved upward ever so slightly. “Is that a fact?”

“Yup. I hear good things about that place all the time.”

Greg swished the last of his pint in his glass, then downed it. 

“Oh hell, why not?”

“There you go, that’s the spirit! I’ll tell her you’re coming tomorrow. 12:15 sharp. They watch the receptionists closely to make sure they’re back on time.”

“Got it, 12:15. Thanks John.”

“Save the ‘thank yous' for if it goes well.”

“Right. Ok, it’s my round, what are you having?”

\-----

“Lady Smallwood cancelled?”

“Yes sir.” Anthea confirmed. “Her assistant didn’t go into much detail as to why.”

“Mmm.” Mycroft was already distracted, mentally reviewing his schedule for the rest of the day, seeing what he could adjust to fill the time. Anthea cleared her throat loudly.

“If I may, sir.” Mycroft looked up at her curiously. “You’ve hardly left this office in weeks.”

Mycroft raised a critical eyebrow, focusing in on her more intently. “Is there some issue with my being in my own office?”

“Not as such, but you’ve been working yourself to the point of exhaustion for no reason. Your colleagues have noticed. Your subordinates are afraid of you.”

“They're supposed to be afraid of me.”

“Not to this degree. The majority of them are actively avoiding you. Jameson has yet to come back.”

Jameson being one of the alpha morons who botched up that mission a few months ago. Mycroft had torn into him earlier in the week hoping the man would quit. “That was long overdue. If he has any shred of intelligence he’s looking for a position his mother didn’t buy him into.”

Anthea sighed. “Perhaps, but this still isn’t healthy. Even the PM doesn't work this much. Why don’t you at least take a small break?” She paused a moment, presumably to think. Mycroft saw clear as day that she was faking it. “You haven’t even been to _la Morgana_ in a long time.” She suggested.

Mycroft’s gaze grew icy but Anthea did not waver under the pressure. She was obviously trying to manipulate him, presenting such a highly tempting idea. Not only did _la Morgana_ have excellent fare, they also had an attached bakery offering some of the finest tea and pastries he had ever tasted. He used to go there every Friday for lunch until he noticed more than a few of those divine goodies sticking stubbornly to his waistline. 

He relented as the memory of their espresso cream cake surfaced in his mind. “Have I really been so miserable?”

“Shall we call Jameson and ask?”

He sighed. “No, I don’t want to remind him that he used to work here.” He said airily.

“He is still technically employed.”

“Hmm, my mistake.” One he would see rectified by the end of the day. “Call a car around and I’ll take you up on your suggestion.” He returned to the proposal he had been reading, waving a hand at her in dismissal. 

Anthea walked out of his office, her step much lighter than when she first entered. Mycroft sat back after the door shut. Ordinarily he wouldn’t have gone along with her plans so easily, especially when she clearly had some ulterior motive in mind. Quite honestly he was too exhausted to care over much at this point. Everything she said was correct. After his trip he had thrown himself into his work morning and night even though there was no pressing need for it. He desperately needed a break, even if he only allowed himself a small one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Feelings? Please let me know so I can improve! 
> 
> I very (extremely) loosely borrowed some of the stages Sherlock and John discussed from the classic Johnlock omegaverse fic [The Six Steps of Courtship](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1538393/chapters/3256805) by emptycel. I love that fic so much!
> 
> Thanks again for reading! Next chapter, can Mycroft finally get out of his own way?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Greg go on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All previous notes still apply. I tried to use some British words but to any actual Brits out there if they sound weird to you please let me know. Onward to chapter 4!

The dining room was packed with lunch patrons as the mealtime rush had only just begun. Mycroft was annoyed with the bustle at first but once he tasted their mushroom chablis soup he felt instantly better. It didn’t seem possible that such a humble place could produce such delicious food. His little table sat against the wall next to the window. Mycroft was glad of the view. The day was grey with little glimpses of sun here and there. It was still a touch too cold to eat outside for his taste though a few heartier diners braved the chill, sitting close to the outdoor heaters.

Mycroft took the opportunity to think back on the past few weeks thanks in part to Anthea’s brutal honesty. He knew even he couldn’t keep up the pace he had set for himself. Focusing on work non stop had simply been the most effective way to avoid dwelling on other thoughts. It had worked a charm while he was away. Now that he was home he noticed snippets of memory increasingly invading his mind even while working. Little bits and pieces would flash in his mind whether he liked it or not. The warmth of Lestrade’s body, the timbre of his voice, and his scent of course. Mycroft’s solution had always been more work, naturally.

Lestrade's scent was his strongest memory by far. He swore he could smell it that instant. Very faintly and nearly overpowered by a hundred others but distinct. His body reacted viscerally and Mycroft lost himself in the memory for a moment. Shortly after he shook his head to clear the thought and mentally berated himself for allowing such weakness in a public place.

The scent did not fade. If anything it became stronger. The realization rudely snapped Mycroft out of his reverie. He discretely scanned the crowded room. Sure enough just inside the door stood the familiar figure of Gregory Lestrade. His gaze swept around the room obviously looking for someone.

Mycroft’s first thought was that Jameson wasn’t the only one getting fired when he got back to the office. His next thought flew out of his head as Lestrade’s eyes landed on him. Lestrade smiled politely, gave a quick little wave and kept looking around. 

Mycroft’s chest tightened at how quickly Lestrade’s attention was diverted. The force of the feeling surprised him. He hadn’t seen the man in what felt like ages and all he got was a brief hello before being dismissed. It bloody well hurt like hell. At the same time he felt unfathomably stupid for being hurt by something he should have expected. He had ignored Lestrade for weeks. Was he expecting anything different to happen? Why had he been expecting anything different to happen? _This is what you wanted, you realize._

The combined feeling reminded him of being an awkward teenager all over again. He added disgust with himself to the already miserable mix of emotions he was experiencing. Mycroft looked down at his empty soup bowl, suddenly not feeling all that hungry anymore. He mentally stepped back and considered the situation. He found his best option would be to leave some money on the table to cover the food including the entrée he hadn’t gotten yet and get out of there. He was reaching for his wallet when a voice piped up from his side. 

“Um, hi Mycroft.”

Mycroft took a breath to compose himself. He felt cornered and exposed but there was nowhere to hide. He turned to see an uncomfortable looking Lestrade fidgeting at the edge of his table, uncharacteristically unsure of himself. “Listen, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you. I just wanted to, um, to thank you, in person. It didn’t feel right doing it in a voice message, you know? You saved my arse that day.”

Mycroft’s mind was still in disarray. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Why on earth would you think you were bothering me?”

Lestrade was surprised at the question. “Well, I called you a bunch of times and you never answered me. It’s not a difficult leap.” He shrugged. 

_Why couldn’t I have answered him? I wanted to avoid him not make him think I hate him! Good god, I am a world class moron._ “I am truly sorry Gregory.” Mycroft replied. “I should have answered you long before this. I’m afraid I got caught up in several work related issues and it may have slipped my mind.” _How exactly does pretending to forget about him improve this situation!?_ “But, please, don’t ever assume you are bothering me.” 

Gregory grinned genuinely and nodded. “Right then.” Mycroft felt a rush of warmth at the look of relief on Gregory’s face but he was far from satisfied with how things stood between them. He felt compelled to repair the damage he had done to Gregory’s perception of him regardless of the warnings his logical mind tried to throw at him. 

“You already knew about this place?” Mycroft held out his hand toward the empty chair opposite him in invitation for Gregory to sit down. Gregory looked around and hesitated a moment or two. He took his jacket off and hung it on the back of the chair before taking a seat. 

“Eh, not really. I’m supposed to be meeting someone here. John talked me into this ridiculous blind lunch date thing.”

 _How dare he?_ Mycroft’s mental hit list grew longer by the minute. Couldn’t Doctor Watson mind his own damn business? “Is that so?”

They were interrupted at that point by the waitress. “Excuse me sir. Can I bring you anything?”

Gregory looked lost for a moment. “Sorry, I haven’t even seen the menu yet.”

Mycroft held up two fingers to get her attention. “He’ll have the Thai chicken pasta, if you would be so kind.”

The waitress turned to Gregory for confirmation. “Actually, that sounds pretty good.”

She jotted it down. “Of course, sir.” She picked up Mycroft’s bowl and bustled away to the next table. 

“I hope you don’t think me rude for choosing for you like that. I know you like Thai food and their Thai chicken pasta is one of the best dishes on the menu.”

Gregory rested his chin in his hand. “I trust you. Sherlock says this is one of your favorite places. I assume you know what’s good here.”

Mycroft’s eye involuntarily twitched. He couldn’t even think about Sherlock right now without wanting to strangle him. He obviously had some part in all of this. Mycroft wasn't sure exactly how large a part yet, though he had a few theories. He redirected the conversation as smoothly as he could manage. “He’s annoying, but he’s not wrong. Now what were you saying before?” 

“What was I saying? Oh, right! John talked me into this. I didn’t really want to do it. Every time I turn around someone I know has a beta cousin or friend or sibling that would be just perfect for me apparently.” He said, rolling his eyes. 

_Fools, all of them._ “Was there something about this one that caught your interest?” 

Curiously a bit of color rose in Gregory’s cheeks. “Not particularly. I’m not entirely sure why I agreed to it this time honestly. I’ve looked around but I don’t see anyone that might be her. Guess she wasn’t actually that interested.”

“You’ve only just arrived. Perhaps she’s running late. I don’t mind if you sit with me while you wait.” _Obviously, he’s already sitting down. You ordered food for him. How clever you are._ He mentally chastised himself. 

Gregory, not having noticed anything awkward, beamed at him. “That would be great.” 

Gregory’s eyes shone gently in the natural light from the window and butterflies fluttered furiously in Mycroft’s stomach. He had to look away but when he did he inadvertently focused on Gregory’s lips, thin and masculine, bottom lip shining slightly from where he had licked it recently. He redirected the conversation again, concentrating so as not to falter. “I’m sure your friends all mean well. The ones who keep trying to set you up.”

Gregory sighed. “I know they do but sometimes it gets to be a bit much. I’m sure you know what I mean. You probably get people trying to hook you up with their second cousins or whoever on occasion too.”

“Perhaps at one time they tried. My parents especially were eager to see me with someone. I suspect most have given up on me by now.”

Gregory tilted his head slightly. “Why is that? Just not interested?”

“Not exactly. I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that. With my line of work I’ve simply found it easier to not entangle myself.”

“Surely you work with people in similar positions who are bonded or married though?”

“Yes, almost all of them are or were before. As I said, it’s complicated.”

The waitress took this opportunity to come back with their dishes and a glass of water for Gregory. Mycroft was thankful for the interruption.

“Great, I’m starving! What did you get there?”

“It’s a crab and shrimp puff pastry with white wine sauce.”

“It looks delicious. Something for me to try next time.” Gregory carefully twirled some pasta around his fork and took a bite. “Oh my god.” Mycroft smiled around a forkful of his own food. “Never mind, I won’t order anything else here ever again. This is so good!” He took another bite, closed his eyes and scrunched up his face as he savored his meal. Mycroft couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped him and Gregory looked up. “What?”

Mycroft swallowed his mouthful before speaking. “Your reaction. Are you aware that everything you feel tends to show up on your face?” _It’s incredibly endearing._ “It’s quite refreshing.” He said instead.

Gregory flushed a bit. “Yeah I’ve been told that before. My mates used to love when I’d play poker with them. I couldn’t figure out how I’d always lose till one of them clued me in.”

“Simply a side effect of being an honest person. You shouldn’t be self conscious about it.” Mycroft said with a smile, reaching for his teacup.

“I have to be sometimes. Interrogating suspects becomes a bit rough if they can tell what you're thinking. But when I’m with friends I’m not so concerned with it.” He said, popping a green bean into his mouth. 

_Friends._ Feeling overheated Mycroft put down his lukewarm tea and reached for his sparkling ice water instead. 

“Speaking of suspects, I’m sure you’ve seen the news stories by now. Good work picking Amanda out of that file. She wasn’t even a blip on our radar before that.”

Mycroft gave a short nod. “I admit it took me some time longer than I would have liked to figure that out. Was she difficult to apprehend?”

“Surprisingly not. I think on some level she was ready to be caught. She isn’t exactly being cooperative though. She’ll definitely give us a tough time in court but we’ve got her. We followed the regulations down to the letter on this one. Well, with the exception of your help, of course.” Gregory speared a sliver of chicken, waving it around a little as he spoke. “If that’s all you needed to pin her I’d say the criminals in this city are damn lucky you didn’t go into criminal justice.” 

Mycroft puffed up a little at this praise. “Glad I could be of service.”

Gregory sent him a warning look. “I might stay away from Baker Street for a while if I were you though. Sherlock is less than thrilled with you right now.” 

Mycroft scoffed. “He’s usually not happy with me for one reason or another. I’ll take my chances if I end up having to grace them with my presence.” As a matter of fact, Mycroft was half tempted to go straight over there after lunch just to bother Sherlock and his meddling bondmate. It would serve them right.

They continued their meal companionably, intermittently talking about various things while they ate. It was the most pleasant meal in Mycroft’s recent memory and it was over far too soon for his liking. When the waitress brought the check Gregory snapped it up.

“Gregory, come now, don’t be ridiculous.” He held his hand out for the bill, displeasure written across his face. It was ineffective as Gregory wouldn’t look at him.

“Nope, this one is on me. A proper thank you for your help. No, I won’t hear no for an answer. You can get the next one, alright?” Gregory smiled at him coyly and for the first time in months, perhaps years, Mycroft lost a battle of wills. It was less a battle and more a complete surrender.

“There had better be a next one very soon then.” He muttered, his logical mind apparently on holiday.

“Sure, just let me know when.” Gregory said offhandedly as he tucked some money into the little black folder containing the check.

“Excuse me? I’m sorry but are you Greg?” A beta woman had come up to their table unnoticed by either of them. Mycroft was unable to hide his displeasure at this stranger who so rudely came up out of nowhere and casually addressed Gregory. “I’m Carol.”

“Oh, right, Carol!” He glanced at his watch.

“I’m sorry I was so late. I would have sent a text but I don’t have your number.”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

“I know you probably don’t have any more time. Should we try this again, say next week?”

Gregory paused to think. “It’s actually really hard for me to pin down my schedule so far in advance. Why don’t I let you know? What’s your mobile number?”

As they went through the motions of exchanging phone numbers their voices faded into indistinct noise. Mycroft’s vision took on a curious red tinge at the edges. By the end of their luncheon he had been about 85-90% sure John and Sherlock had made up a beta woman just so he and Gregory would cross paths. Yet here she was. Personal information about her scrolled through his mind as he focused on her. She worked at the same surgery as Dr. Watson. Divorced, one child and a cat, feeling increasingly lonely and actively searching for a mate but not yet desperate, preference for alpha men.

Their chatter continued for what seemed like forever but in reality was probably only another minute or so. She smiled at Gregory then turned to Mycroft. Her smile evaporated instantly. She gave a curt nod, said something Mycroft didn’t hear and walked away.

“Whoa, Mycroft, what happened?” His attention snapped back to a worried looking Gregory. “Is something wrong?”

Mycroft found it difficult to settle his expression. The edges of red still hovered in his vision. He absently noted a pain in his palm. Evidently he had squeezed his hand into a fist so hard his fingernails left marks. He took a deep breath and attempted to force calm into his voice. “No, thank you for your concern Gregory. I simply happened to remember something unpleasant I need to deal with.” 

Gregory was still on edge. It seemed Mycroft’s attempt to neutralize his expression had failed. “Are you sure?”

Mycroft took another breath and finally started to feel more settled. He opened his fist and flexed his fingers under the table. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”

Gregory nodded and stood, reaching for his jacket. “Okay. Well, I need to get back to work. Give a call when you feel like doing this again.” Mycroft watched Gregory as he shrugged into his jacket and felt a wave of longing crash into him. His rational mind, conspicuously quiet for the majority of their meal, came back online and presented him with his options. 

First was the safe option. He could let Gregory walk out the door and return to what he had been doing. Go back to work and lose himself in endless reports in the hope that he could suppress and ignore all of this as he always had. Gregory wasn’t like him though. He knew Gregory wouldn’t be happy being alone in the long run. He would eventually choose one of the plethora of betas people were constantly throwing at him or perhaps he might get lucky and find an unbonded omega and that would be that. Mycroft would no longer have a choice in the matter and maybe he could get on with his own life. 

Or he could take a chance. Taking chances was simply not something Mycroft did. Every decision he made was carefully weighed and every conceivable outcome considered before being executed. He was also not one to volunteer personal information about himself to anyone. Ever. His past affairs had been fleeting and not demanded any disclosure. If he chose this it would require him to reveal some, if not all of himself. To essentially put his life in someone else’s hands. If he were being completely honest with himself the thought of taking such a risk was as terrifying to him as staring down the barrel of a loaded pistol. 

These thoughts flitted through his mind as he watched Gregory smooth out the front of his jacket. He then turned to Mycroft, waiting expectantly for an answer, expression on the cusp of concerned at Mycroft’s continued silence. Their eyes met and at once Mycroft’s decision was made. “I will.” Mycroft stood. “Say, we are heading in the same direction, aren’t we? Can I give you a ride?”

Gregory considered a moment. He eyed the weather out the window dubiously and hesitated. “Again? You aren’t a taxi service, you don’t have to.”

“Of course I don’t have to.” His voice lowered. “But I want to.”

An amused smile slowly spread across Gregory’s face. He turned away and cleared his throat as he answered. “Okay.”

\-----

The butterflies from earlier tried to flutter their way out of Mycroft’s mouth as the car door shut. Though he had made his decision it didn’t mean executing it wouldn’t be difficult. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gregory surreptitiously glancing at him in between looks around the interior and out the window. 

Mycroft turned to face him as the car pulled into traffic. He was immediately met with gentle eyes. Words wouldn’t come. He wasn’t sure what exactly to say. How much should he say? Hundreds of ‘what ifs’ popped up in his mind. _What if he doesn’t return my feelings? What if he’s disgusted? What if this is a mistake?_

“It’s all right.” Gregory said softly. Mycroft’s gaze snapped back to him. Gregory gifted him with that roguish grin Mycroft loved so much and his bout of anxiety melted away. Mycroft leaned in and their lips met briefly, almost chastely. A question without words. Gregory’s proximity filled his senses but he kept his eyes shut. He was afraid to open them lest the answer was a negative one.

Gregory's reply came shortly after, lightly pressed back on his waiting lips. Longer this time but gentle and undemanding. When Mycroft didn’t pull away Gregory became more bold. He nipped at Mycroft’s lips gently to encourage a response. Gregory reached up to cup his cheek and Mycroft made a helpless little noise in the back of his throat. The last bit of his resistance crumbled. He licked into Gregory’s mouth and indulged in the heady feeling of tasting him at last. Surprisingly Gregory yielded immediately allowing Mycroft to explore his mouth as he pleased. When necessity demanded they part for air Mycroft was distantly surprised to find himself straddling him. The position made it necessary for him to keep his head low and close to Gregory’s to avoid hitting it on the roof. He should have been uncomfortable but Mycroft reveled in it.

“Jesus Mycroft.” Gregory smiled mischievously. His hands rested on Mycroft’s hips with his fingertips tucked just underneath the hem of his waistcoat. He reached up Mycroft's back as far as restrictive clothing would allow. Mycroft squirmed in Gregory’s lap desperately seeking more contact.

“You…” Mycroft was having trouble thinking of anything besides Gregory pinned under him. “You aren’t surprised.” He whispered.

“I am a little.” Gregory's voice was low and aroused. “Let’s just say it’s about damn time.” With that he surged up and sealed their lips together once more. Gregory carefully turned them so Mycroft was underneath him and expertly flicked and teased him with his tongue. Mycroft felt he was being devoured. He moaned at the thought and Gregory kissed him harder.

He buried one hand Gregory’s hair and clutched at his back with the other trying to pull him closer. Since they were two full grown men this proved difficult even in the spacious back seat of Mycroft’s government provided car. At the very least there was a tinted divider between them and the driver but it wasn’t the ideal venue for this by far. He wanted to feel the full length of Gregory’s body pressed against him. To feel his hands, now freely roaming over his clothes, lighting trails of fire on his bare skin.

Gregory pulled away from him and went for his belt. Mycroft put out a hand to stop him. Gregory’s impossibly dark eyes burned into his cool blue ones. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” Mycroft breathed. “But there’s no room to do this properly.” 

“Mmm, that is a problem.” He leaned in close to murmur in Mycroft’s ear. “Think of this as a starter then.” Gregory distracted Mycroft by nibbling his ear while his hands resumed work on Mycroft’s flies.

He freed Mycroft’s aching prick from its confines and wrapped cool fingers around his shaft. Mycroft gasped. It had been too long since anyone had touched him in such a way. Gregory returned to Mycroft's mouth and kissed him softly. He stroked him agonizingly slowly using his thumb to smear precome around the tip.

Mycroft pulled back to whisper. “There will be more if you reach back further.” It took Gregory a few lust soaked moments to realize Mycroft was referring to using his slick for lubrication. He moaned and crashed their lips together once it clicked. Mycroft met him with equal fervor, sucking Gregory's bottom lip into his mouth. 

Gregory tried to reach for his slick but found it impossible to do comfortably without removing Mycroft’s trousers and pants. Yet another difficult feat to accomplish for two middle aged men cramped in a back seat. “You're right, this is the worst possible place for this.” Gregory growled. “Do you mind if I try something else?”

“Yes. I mean no. God, please. Do anything you like.” Mycroft pled desperately.

Gregory pecked him on the lips once more before pulling away. He coaxed Mycroft to a fully upright seated position with one hand. Mycroft felt positively drunk. He watched as Gregory carefully arranged himself close to Mycroft’s lap. His cock pulsed in anticipation and more precome beaded at the tip. 

Gregory looked up at him, stuck out his tongue and licked it away. Mycroft had to close his eyes at such an erotic sight or he would come far too quickly. Gregory took him in as far as he could. Mycroft’s breath hitched as Gregory’s firm, warm mouth enveloped his cock. Gregory slowly drew back up, lightly sucking him the entire way. Mycroft let out a deep groan at how fucking amazing it felt. He tried extremely hard not to buck up into Gregory’s mouth. Gregory obviously knew what he was doing and Mycroft was more than happy to let him set the pace.

Gregory paused in between pulls to lave at Mycroft's prick with his tongue. He worked his way up to the head and circled it with broad strokes. Mycroft chanced a look at him and was astonished at the expression of euphoria Gregory wore as he tasted him. _He is so beautiful_ was all he could think as he watched.

Gregory pointed his tongue to focus on his slit and Mycroft mewled as his arousal rose to near painful levels. Gregory swallowed him again with no warning and increased his pace. All too soon Mycroft’s testicles drew up. He reached for Gregory's head and tugged on his short strands as gently as he could manage in his frantic state hoping he didn’t hurt Gregory in the process.

“Stop, stop! I…” He cried as he tried to catch his breath. 

Gregory stopped to look up at him. His lips were flushed, shining, and slightly swollen. “Good. Do it.” He ordered as he sucked Mycroft down again. That was all it took. Mycroft’s cock stiffened. He threw his head back in a silent scream as he shot hot streams of come down Gregory's throat. Immense pleasure coursed through his body and he lost track of his surroundings.

He floated for a few minutes in pure bliss, slowly coming back to himself. First he noted Gregory had sat back up but remained close to him. Mycroft put his arms around him and pulled him closer so he could nuzzle his neck. He also noted that while he had just come in spectacular fashion the haze of lust he felt was far from diminished. That was when the realization hit him. _I’m in heat._

He wasn’t sure how that little detail had escaped him considering the slick he mentioned before. He didn't typically produce slick unless he was in heat. _It’s almost as though you were distracted._ He smiled and licked at the juncture of Gregory’s jaw and neck. Gregory chuckled. “Still not satisfied are we?”

Poor neglected Gregory. That Mycroft had not yet touched him was a grave injustice that needed to be rectified immediately. “Not even close. You need to take responsibility for this.”

“Hmm?” Mycroft realized that Gregory was probably in rut himself and therefore may also have missed the obvious.

He looked Gregory in the eye. “You have undoubtedly triggered my heat. I’ll need you to take full responsibility...” He leaned in close to whisper against his lips. “and fuck me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also should I tag this PWP? I'm starting to think so. 
> 
> All the dishes Mycroft and Greg had on their date exist in a real life restaurant and they are all delicious, particularly the thai chicken pasta. I just changed the restaurant's name. 
> 
> Until next time, thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heat continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I’m back again with chapter 5! I’m going to mark this story complete but I’m seriously considering writing a little Christmas epilogue for The 2017 Mystrade Advent Calendar.

They somehow managed to tumble through Mycroft’s front door without hurting themselves. It was embarrassingly unclear how long it had taken them to notice the car had stopped. Not outside NSY as Mycroft had instructed but outside his private house. There had been no sign of the driver whatsoever. Not that they had looked particularly closely for him.

These discrepancies pulled at Mycroft’s attention but ultimately they were no match for the feel of Gregory’s body pressed between himself and the door. Gregory managed to get Mycroft’s coat and suit jacket off but couldn’t get much further with Mycroft plastered to his front. He felt Gregory’s erection pressed next to his own, extremely firm and far larger than his as a result of the heat pheromones. He had been taught this was the way alpha anatomy worked but never had the opportunity to witness the reaction in person. He wanted to feel it in his hands and caress it with his tongue. To commit it to memory.

Mycroft shifted to Gregory's side and slid a hand from his shoulder down to his hips. His hand passed close to Gregory’s erection as it traveled further down his thigh. Gregory moaned pleadingly into his mouth and Mycroft’s mildly interested prick was instantly rock hard. He repeated the motion and was rewarded with another moan and an insistent thrust of his hips.

In spite of the events of the afternoon up to this point Mycroft was incredulous that he had this strong an effect on him. He had never considered himself a particularly desirable person sexually. To hear such enthusiastic evidence to the contrary boosted his confidence. “So eager Gregory.” He teased. 

“Of cour… mmmhh.” Mycroft stroked down Gregory's thigh again and he lost coherence. “Of course I am. You’ve been keeping me waiting a fairly long time.”

Mycroft smirked wickedly. “Forgive me for wanting to savor this.” He purred as he continued his slow teasing stroke. “I never thought we would be in this situation.”

“Such a clever man as you didn’t see this coming? I don’t believe that.” Gregory teased him right back. He turned his head, closing the scant few centimeters separating his lips from Mycroft’s ear to whisper in husky tones. “Didn’t you feel it? I certainly did.”

Mycroft’s knees threatened to give out. He didn’t want to let Gregory have control of the situation again so soon. To that end he rested his hand over Gregory’s cock and rubbed gently. This almost backfired as Mycroft got distracted by how hard he was was and the increasingly urgent sounds of appreciation he made. Eventually Mycroft answered. “I felt it. I’ve always felt it. Even so I did not believe this would ever happen.”

“Always?” Gregory’s murmured with a tinge of awe and Mycroft got the distinct feeling he had revealed far too much by accident. He froze. Through his fog a sharp pang that wasn’t heat related jabbed him in the gut. Gregory felt Mycroft tense. He stilled his hips and laid a comforting hand on the back of Mycroft’s neck. He trailed his fingertips in circles intermittently passing over the spot where his omega scent would be strongest. “Listen, just remember what I told you before. It’s all right. You don’t have anything to fear from me.” He said softly.

Sweet virtuous Gregory. Logically Mycroft already knew Gregory wouldn’t intentionally harm him. His trustworthiness was part of what made him so appealing. Knowing this didn’t make the business of revealing himself to Gregory any easier. “I know.” Mycroft focused on the gentle strokes on his neck and relaxed until he melted against him.

“Why don’t we try this somewhere more comfortable love? I mean, if you still want to of course.”

_Oh dear sweet lord!_ Mycroft thought he would surely keel over hearing such tender words directed at him. He collected himself for a moment then stepped away holding Gregory’s other hand. He hadn't realized they’d been holding hands in the first place. Mycroft gently tugged him away from the door and led the way up the stairs.

Upon entering the bedroom Mycroft kissed Gregory with renewed vigor. He didn’t need any further encouragement. He tore Mycroft's waistcoat off of him and several buttons flew off in different directions. Mycroft could not have given less of a damn as he shoved Gregory’s jacket off his shoulders. 

Gregory was slightly faster. He had Mycroft down to his pants while he retained his trousers. Mycroft fought with his flies whilst Gregory walked him backwards toward the bed, kissing him senseless the entire way. Mycroft’s legs hit the edge of the bed and Gregory broke the kiss to lick at his neck. Mycroft craned his head up to the side to give him better access but felt compelled to check. “No bonding.”

“No, no bonding.” He confirmed. “I just want to get rid of that blocker.”

_Ah, of course._ Mycroft had forgotten about it surrounded as he was with Gregory's ever strengthening scent. “It’s waterproof, I’m afraid. It has to be removed with a special soap. It won’t be a minute for me to wash it off.”

Gregory groaned in frustration but pulled away slowly. “Hurry back. And don’t shower.” He rumbled.

Mycroft closed himself into the en suite and washed up as quickly as possible. Once the blocker had been neutralized his naturally sweet and spicy omega scent filled the room far stronger than it had ever been. Mycroft was in no condition to consider the potential ramifications of this and opened the door without a second thought as soon as he was finished. 

The instant Gregory’s alpha scent hit him he felt severely dizzy. His temperature skyrocketed and the ache in his gut intensified. He doubled over and whimpered in pain. Gregory appeared beside him immediately. He caught Mycroft, carefully stripped him of his last remaining clothing, and left his slick soaked underpants on the smooth bathroom floor. Amazingly he lifted Mycroft in his arms as if he weighed nothing and carried him to bed. 

Gregory set him down gently and climbed over him to scent him properly. “Christ you smell fantastic.” Mycroft was beyond speech, completely consumed by the feel of Gregory above him and the gnawing emptiness between his hips. His hands scrabbled over the surface of the duvet for something to grab onto as he writhed and moaned, wordlessly begging for more. 

Gregory reached between them to run his fingers through Mycroft’s slick. He stroked from his perineum and back over his entrance several times with increasingly firm pressure. Once Gregory was satisfied he had enough he brought his slick covered hand up, gripped both of their erections, and stroked them together. Mycroft nearly lost his mind at the sight of their arousals side by side sliding through Gregory’s fist. He watched in fascination as a drop of fluid leaked from the head of Gregory’s cock onto his stomach. 

The feeling of them slipping against each other was fantastic but it wasn’t what he craved right then. He needed Gregory inside him. His body burned insistently for a knot. Mycroft thrust his hips hard upward to push Gregory off of him and promptly flipped over onto all fours. Gregory pounced on him and slid his engorged prick along Mycroft’s backside a few times to gather more slick. He then pressed the tip to Mycroft’s entrance. Mycroft immediately tried to push back onto it. Gregory gripped his hips hard to stop him. “Don't… not all at once. You’ll… hahhhh…” a pulse of slick flowed over the head of Gregory’s arousal and he needed to take a few ragged breaths to maintain his self control. “You'll hurt yourself.”

Mycroft nearly howled in frustration. He adamantly pushed back against Gregory’s grip but he wouldn’t budge no matter how hard Mycroft pressed. Mycroft tried demanding however his demands came out sounding much more like desperate pleas. “Now… oh god please… now… it’s fine… I’m fine… all of it… give me all of it… please.” 

Gregory growled and gripped him harder, which only served to arouse Mycroft further. “No. I will not risk hurting you. Be patient Myc. I’ve got this.” As far gone as he was it was still difficult for Mycroft to give up control. After a few long minutes it became apparent that Gregory would not give in and he eased off. Gregory loosened his grip only slightly. “Yes, that’s it.” He murmured and began to enter Mycroft a little bit at a time. Mycroft basked in the feeling of being slowly and, dare he think, lovingly filled. 

_Yes. Lovingly is a perfectly apt description._ Everyone knew the horror stories of over zealous alphas who injured omegas in their haste. They were common enough that the societal expectation was for alphas in rut to become violent lust monsters who cannot be stopped until they are sated. Not so with his alpha. His Gregory treated him with nothing but care and was capable of maintaining his self control even when the pheromones were at their thickest. Mycroft forcibly reminded himself that in the end this was only sharing a heat regardless of what else Gregory’s behavior may suggest. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Love was a whole other matter. One he dared not hope for even now. 

Gregory rested his forehead against his back and let out a deep breath, oblivious to Mycroft’s thoughts. He lightly touched his lips to Mycroft’s skin and asked “Still alright?”

Mycroft nodded and whispered “Yes.” Gregory was buried fully within him now. The burning that initially accompanied the stretch faded into pleasure as his body acclimated. He could feel the extra slick cooling on his thighs and Gregory’s knot resting against him.

“Good. I’m going to start moving now. Stop me if it hurts.” 

Mycroft nodded. Gregory pulled out almost all the way and slid back in with one smooth motion. He repeated this slowly a few times and Mycroft eagerly tilted his hips up to meet each thrust. Soon Gregory made his thrusts shallower and faster, allowing himself to indulge in Mycroft’s body at last. After such a long build up he couldn’t hold out long. He swiped a free hand through the extra slick and reached around to pump Mycroft's cock in time with his thrusts. Mycroft was right there with him despite his earlier release. “I’m ready. Knot me.” He ordered breathlessly over his shoulder. He was fully prepared to beg again if need be.

He didn’t have to. After a few thrusts more Gregory pressed in and pulled Mycroft’s hips flush against his. Mycroft felt his knot press firmly against his entrance for a long moment before his body accepted it and locked on. Gregory gave a loud, muffled shout as he spilled himself deep within Mycroft’s body. The satisfying stretch of the knot combined with the feel of the first spurt inside him tipped Mycroft over the edge right after. His cock pulsed in Gregory’s grip and hot come leaked between his fingers onto the duvet.

Gregory collapsed heavily on top of him and Mycroft’s limbs quickly gave out. Once Gregory's orgasm had subsided to light aftershocks he gently maneuvered them to lay on their sides. Mycroft missed his weight at first but Gregory cuddled up behind him right away. He pressed his nose against the base Mycroft’s neck, audibly inhaling his scent. Mycroft found this an acceptable and vastly more comfortable alternative.

“Mmmgggghhh.” 

Mycroft wasn’t certain if that was supposed to be a word. “What?” He asked in a wispy voice.

Gregory took his arm from around Mycroft’s chest. “Sorry. Just. That was… incredible.” He sighed and wrapped his arm around Mycroft again. 

Mycroft agreed wholeheartedly. “Truly. Is sharing a heat always like this?”

Gregory huffed a small chuckle. “Not in my experience. Granted it’s been over twenty years since I’ve shared a heat with someone but I would have remembered if it had been like that. Hell, I wo…” Gregory cut himself off sharply.

“What? Is something wrong?”

“Shit, I was supposed to go back to work! I’m on call tonight!” The sudden realization caused Gregory to tense his muscles which in turn sent them both into orgasms again. Secondary orgasms were yet another phenomenon Mycroft had yet to experience firsthand. As long as they were attached smaller orgasms could occur as the omega body tried to drain every bit of semen from the chosen alpha, especially if either of the partners moved suddenly.

“Don’t worry Gregory.” Mycroft said once he caught his breath again. “If we ended up here it means my driver noticed something was… off. I’m sure my PA has already made your excuses to your superiors. You should be free until tomorrow at least.”

“Are you sure that’ll be long enough?”

“It should. While my heat suppressors have been less effective of late my symptoms have not lasted longer than a few hours thus far.”

“Hmm, that’s awfully short. What a shame.” He punctuated this statement with a kiss to his shoulder and Mycroft hummed in contentment. “It’s hard to believe you were able to keep something this big a secret for so long.”

“I’ll remind you it is still a secret to most.” Mycroft said with a touch of haughtiness.

“Of course. I’m honored to be one of the privileged few who knows.”

“It seems you knew long before this. You weren’t at all surprised to find out.”

“I haven’t known for very long, though I have suspected for a quite a while. This past year especially it’s been as though you didn’t match your scent somehow. I could always detect this sweet undercurrent that didn’t fit with your usual scent. Makes a lot more sense now.” He pressed his nose to the base of Mycroft’s neck again.

Mycroft stretched his neck out, enjoying Gregory’s attention. “I’ll have you know that scent blocker costs me a small fortune to have made. It’s fooled thousands of people over the years.”

“I have no doubt. If it makes you feel better no one besides me seems to notice. It made me wonder if I was imagining things or if something was wrong with my nose. Then after you visited my office a couple months back I noticed this had gone missing.”

His hand lifted up into Mycroft's line of vision. To his horror Gregory held a familiar grey scarf. After his little escapade with it Mycroft had rinsed it thoroughly and sent it to be cleaned. It hadn’t been ruined like he originally anticipated but he still didn’t think returning it would have been appropriate. He certainly couldn’t bring himself to throw it away either. So he kept it in his bedroom where no one would ever see it anyway. Or so he thought. A fierce blush raced across Mycroft’s skin up to the tips of his ears. “Where did you find that?”

Gregory chuckled lowly, vastly amused as he hugged Mycroft closer. “On the headboard.” 

_Oh god, how mortifying! How did I forget that?_ Mycroft tried to curl in on himself but Gregory held onto him. Mycroft’s body, likely spurred on by his embarrassment, chose this moment to release him. He carefully slid out and let go only to appear above Mycroft a second later. He tried to get Mycroft to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be embarrassed.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Mycroft glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. 

Gregory dipped his head, conceding Mycroft’s point. “Maybe a bit. But not for long! We’re in the middle of heat here Mycroft. Seems a bit silly to get embarrassed now doesn’t it?”

Mycroft turned his head a fraction and Gregory tilted his head adorably. Did Gregory not understand difficult this was for him? Twice now Mycroft had unintentionally hinted at a greater depth of feeling for him. Feelings that went far beyond heat. If he had stolen his scarf only to assist his heat he would have had no qualms about throwing it away afterward. 

_How do other people do this so easily?_ Mycroft steeled himself and turned his head to face him. Greg grinned at him. “There, see? I’m not angry or anything. It’s just a scarf.” His grin turned devilish. “Besides, it came in handy a moment ago. I needed something to bite down on to be on the safe side.”

Electricity suddenly sparked between them. Mycroft's cock stirred and the telltale emptiness returned to his gut. “How fortunate for us. What other uses we could find for it, I wonder?”

Gregory’s eyes darkened. “Hmm, good question. What’s say we find out?”

\-----

Mycroft awoke to sunshine streaming into the room. He was unsure of the exact time though the sun at this angle in his bedroom suggested late morning or very early afternoon. With his level of grogginess he couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep, which likely meant his heat had lasted all night. Gregory’s shallow breaths and warm weight next to him soothed him. He decided the rest of the world could wait a few hours more. He turned to snuggle closer and hissed in pain at the movement.

“Mycroft?” Gregory mumbled as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “Are you alright?”

A genuine smile spread over Mycroft’s face. “Yes my dear Gregory. I am far better than alright. Just rather sore. And exhausted. I believe my heat has officially passed.”

“I’d say I'm sorry for making you sore. But I’m really not.”

Mycroft chuckled. “Neither am I.”

“Is there anything I can do to help at least?”

“Yes. Find my phone and bring it here. Then close the curtains and come back to bed with me.”

“As you wish.” Gregory pecked him on the forehead and sat up with a grunt of pain. “Guess you aren’t the only one who's sore.”

“At least it was well earned.” Mycroft watched as stark naked Gregory puttered about the room looking for his clothing. He would have told him to simply use his dressing gown hanging in the en suite but was enjoying the view far too much.

“See anything you like?” Gregory smirked as he pulled his trousers on.

“You know I do. Hurry back please.”

Gregory reluctantly left the room and Mycroft took the opportunity to reconsider his decision to pursue a relationship with him. He had been on the cusp of heat when he made his choice in the restaurant. Those hormones easily could have influenced him. He owed it to both of them to make sure his feelings had not changed now that his head was clear. 

He didn’t have to think about it for long. If anything this experience had only strengthened his resolve. If this was what he'd been missing out on then he was clearly a fool for not taking this chance sooner. How lovely would it be to wake up to an adorably sleepy-headed Gregory in his bed every morning? Not to mention the utterly phenomenal sex. Whatever limited sexual experience he’d had previously paled in comparison.

There were other considerations of course. Not the least of which were Gregory’s feelings on the matter. There were plenty of signals Mycroft had interpreted Gregory as possibly wanting more, however any interpretation he came up with would ultimately be an assumption on his part. He decided he was going to have to ask Gregory directly to be completely sure. A prospect which struck irrational fear in is mind. Either Gregory would agree and they would be a couple or he wouldn’t and they wouldn’t be. Still the task seemed daunting even for him. _Don’t be ridiculous! You regularly have tea with the Queen and intimidate terror cells on a daily basis. Don't be afraid of a simple conversation!_

Before Mycroft could start forming plans about the best way to bring the up the subject Gregory returned with his suit jacket and phone. “Are you hungry? I could probably make us something if you don’t mind me poking around your kitchen.” He handed the phone over then turned to lay the suit jacket over the back of the chair and pull the curtains.

Mycroft unlocked his phone and texted Anthea immediately. “I am, however I’m far more tired than hungry. Besides I’m afraid you won’t find anything of substance in my kitchen at the moment. Come back to bed and I’ll have my PA take care of everything.”

“Can you find out what she told the chief super for me too?” He said with a wince. “I hope I won’t need to have an awkward conversation with him.” Gregory took his pants back off as he spoke and climbed back into bed with a relieved sigh. 

“Of course.” Mycroft sent off his last text and glanced at him. Gregory looked up at him from the pillow. He appeared restful. Anyone else would believe him to be completely relaxed but Mycroft noticed a slight crease between his eyes. _He’s concerned about something. If you are going to go through with this you need to start showing him you are serious._

Mycroft leaned over and lightly kissed the crease, then leaned further down to kiss him properly. Just a touch of lips in deference to morning breath but hopefully enough to reassure him. If the hopelessly soft look Gregory gave him afterward was any indication Mycroft had succeeded spectacularly. “My dear Gregory. You've taken such good care of me. Let me take care of you for a while.”

“Okay.” He breathed, crease gone. Mycroft turned back to his phone where Anthea had already answered him.

**Taken care of. The inspector is not due into work until tomorrow morning. His services were required by her Majesty’s Government. No detail given.**

**Excellent. And the operation? – M**

**Still under control sir. Nothing pressing has come up. PM meeting moved to tomorrow, reference your schedule.**

**I'll bring lunch around in about an hour.**

**Excellent. However I am still cross with you for conspiring with my brother behind my back. – M**

**I’ll bring an espresso cream cake from _La Morgana_ along too. **

**Excellent. I may not fire you after all. – M**

**Enjoy your afternoon sir ;)**

Gregory snickered and Mycroft fixed him with a look. “What?”

“It looks like you swallowed a bug or something. What did she say?”

“She sent me a winking face. Has she forgotten that I am her employer?” 

Gregory scoffed. “Well can you blame her? If Donovan found out what happened to me she’d do a lot worse than a winky face. You got off easy.”

Mycroft raised a wry eyebrow. “In that case I shall consider myself lucky and let it slide just this once.” He set his phone on the nightstand. “You aren’t expected at work until tomorrow morning. She told your boss that your skills were required by Her Majesty’s Government. If you like you won’t have to tell anyone anything about why you were gone. Claim it was top secret.”

“Ooh so I can play spy then?”

“Only lies have detail Gregory. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Aww.” He fake pouted. “What about you?”

“Free for the whole afternoon barring any sudden catastrophes.” He rested his arm across Gregory's chest and pillowed his head on his shoulder, hoping to get some more sleep at last.

Gregory was quiet for long moments but Mycroft could feel that he wasn’t relaxed. Finally he spoke. “You, um. You know I’ve been doing some, er, thinking.” 

Mycroft couldn’t help but smile. He found Gregory's propensity to add ‘um’ and ‘er’ to his statements when he was feeling nervous rather charming. “Yes?”

“What, umm, I mean. Where exactly do…do you see this whole thing going?” Mycroft knew Gregory to be direct but that he brought the topic up so soon surprised him. To better gauge his thoughts as he spoke Mycroft sat up to watch his face. Gregory followed suit and sat up to continue. “I mean, I'm not making any demands on you, or anything, um, but. I'm, uh, I’m too old to play games or dance around this kind of thing anymore. So, erm, before I get too far ahead of myself here I’d like to know what you’re thinking about where we stand.”

Gregory’s face was nothing but sincere. Mycroft felt he owed him a sincere response. His heart raced as he began. “I don’t usually get involved in romantic relationships, as I believe you know already. My job is far easier for me if everyone assumes I’m an alpha, which is a façade that is much more difficult to maintain if I have an alpha friend.” 

Mycroft's heart broke as Gregory’s hopeful expression fell. He hated seeing that pained look on his face. In this case it was necessary. Mycroft needed to make sure he knew what he was getting into, so he continued. “Additionally my job is demanding and highly classified. I sometimes have to leave for days or weeks at a time. No one can know where I am nor can I contact anyone. I would not be able to discuss many details about my day to day activities. This is something I imagine a paramour would find frustrating.”

“I see.”

“There are other reasons as well but my career is the main one. Overall it has always seemed an ill advised idea for someone like me. However…” Mycroft shyly laid a hand over one of Gregory’s. “If the concerns with my job don’t bother you. And if you could possibly exercise some of that endless patience you seem to have with me, I find I would very much like to try. With you.”

“Really?” Gregory asked breathlessly.

“Yes. Provided you feel the same of course.” Mycroft thought his heart would stop as Gregory's features blossomed into an expression of pure joy. Did he really have the power to make Gregory this happy? He’d never seen a smile so brilliant on anyone’s face before. _Why on earth didn't you do this sooner?_

“Of course I do.” Gregory pulled him into a hug. Mycroft was immensely grateful as the tears from yesterday returned to sting his eyes. It wouldn’t do to cry at a time like this! He hadn’t cried in front of anyone since he was a child! Add this to the list of horribly embarrassing things Gregory bore witness to in the first two days of them being together. Gregory either didn’t notice or chose not to comment on it before kissing the life out of him, morning breath be damned. Mycroft fervently returned the kiss and came away feeling dazed and incandescently happy. 

“Patience huh?” Gregory asked as they settled in together with Mycroft’s head on his shoulder. 

“You have put up with Sherlock for far longer than anyone I know who isn’t either related to him or being paid by him. If that doesn’t demonstrate patience I don’t know what would.”

Gregory chuckled. “I meant with you.”

“Oh. Well, yes. When I say I don’t usually do this I mean I have never done this before. I imagine there will be some learning curve.”

“You’re doing fine so far.” Gregory ran his fingertips soothingly through Mycroft’s hair. 

“I should hope so. We have been official for all of what? Twenty minutes?”

“Not even. Don’t worry about it too much. As you said, I’m endlessly patient.”

Mycroft hummed in agreement. “Oh, I nearly forgot. I have one condition.”

“Which is?”

Mycroft lifted his head and looked at him with an almost frightening intensity. “Delete that woman’s number from your mobile. I’m not willing to share.”

Gregory barked out a hearty laugh. “I knew it! I knew she made you jealous! Done as soon as I remember where my phone is.”

“Good. Do you have any conditions for me?” He laid his head back on Gregory’s shoulder. 

“Hmm. No, not a single one. You’re going to give me a fair chance. That’s already more than I’d hoped for.”

“Oh.” A pleasant warmth spread through Mycroft’s chest. _You forget you aren’t exactly brokering an international treaty here. This will be a bit different than what you’re used to._ Completely content for perhaps the first time in years he allowed the steady rhythm of Gregory’s heartbeat to lull him back to sleep. 

\-----

About a month later Mycroft approached the edge of a crime scene crawling with officers and scene technicians. He would have liked to wait until later to do this in a more private setting but a situation had come up. He had to leave in the next few hours and Gregory had only just started this investigation. It was either do this now or wait until he got back. Mycroft preferred not to wait. 

He stopped at the police tape and quickly spotted Gregory standing next to an area shielded from view by hanging sheets. Sherlock was next to him talking and gesticulating wildly. Mycroft chuckled to himself. Sherlock’s presence would certainly make for an unexpected and long overdue bonus. He pulled out his mobile and sent off a text to Gregory to let him know he was here. 

Moments later Gregory looked up, searching for him. Mycroft saw his face light up when he found him and couldn’t help but smile. He could also see Sherlock’s eye roll but was far less concerned with that. Gregory excused himself and trotted over to him. 

“Hey, Mycroft!”

Inevitably some of the other people on scene turned their heads to see what Gregory was doing. Mycroft retained his cool unaffected exterior though he was extremely nervous in reality. He irrationally thought they would all automatically know he was an omega just from talking to Gregory even though he wore the same scent blocker. He and Gregory had already discussed his discomfort at being known as an omega at length. It would take some time for him to acclimate to the idea and Gregory was willing to give him all the time he needed. As such he was sure to maintain a respectful distance from Mycroft in front of his team. 

“Hello Gregory. I’m sorry to intrude like this while you’re working but something has come up. Do you have a moment to spare?”

“Sure.” He ducked under the police tape and they walked a small distance away behind a building. It wasn’t completely private but at least it was out of view of the scene workers. “What’s happened Myc? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine my dear Gregory. However I will need to go silent for a few days. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you about it. Before I left I wanted to return something to you.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a freshly cleaned light grey scarf.

Gregory smiled mischievously and stepped closer to him. “You are one kinky bastard, you know that right?” He rumbled.

Mycroft leaned close to Gregory’s ear. “As are you. You love it.” He purred as he pulled Gregory’s current scarf off and draped the grey one around his shoulders.

“I do.” Gregory pulled Mycroft flush against him. “Will you be gone very long?”

“It’s difficult to say for sure but it shouldn’t be longer than a week.”

“Call me as soon as you get back?”

“Of course.” Mycroft glanced to the side to ensure they were alone, then kissed him deeply. He reluctantly pulled away before it got too heated. 

“I’ll look forward to it. Be safe and hurry back.” He murmured. They kissed once more then separated to go about their jobs. 

When Mycroft got back to the car he turned to watch as Gregory made his way through the scene. He was glad he had taken the time to do this. Watching Gregory wearing that scarf was every bit as gratifying as he imagined it would be. More so considering he wore it knowingly. Gregory turned, saw him watching, and waved. Mycroft tilted his umbrella at him then got in the car, unable to put off leaving any longer. 

About ten minutes later Mycroft’s phone text alert sounded. It was from Gregory. Ordinarily he would have left it until he returned as it could distract him but he couldn’t help himself. Attached was a picture of Sherlock looking comically disgusted with a confused John staring up at him. The message read **Sherlock does not appreciate your revenge methods.**

Mycroft laughed out loud. Another message came in immediately after. **And now my whole division knows you’re an omega. I’m sorry.**

**Don’t be. I expected this might happen when I saw Sherlock there. They were bound to find out sooner or later. – M**

**Were they now?**

Mycroft smiled fondly. **Yes, I expect they were. Take care until I return, my dearest Gregory. – M**

Mycroft forced himself to power off his mobile after sending the last text. He wasn’t used to this intense feeling of missing someone before he had even left the country. Nor was he used to the knowledge that a group of strangers knew he was an omega. One thing he had gotten used to surprisingly quickly was having Gregory in his life. He never thought himself capable of maintaining a romantic relationship. Yet with Gregory it felt completely natural in spite of his inexperience. Yes, if Mycroft had his way eventually everyone would know. It was only a matter of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for sticking with my little story! I wanted to do a primarily Mystrade story since they’re usually delegated to the background in a Johnlock story. I was thisclose to writing a Johnlock sex scene a while back but held off and I’m glad I did. Those two get the spotlight enough.
> 
> I also have a tumblr because of course I do - SumeragiSakura \- I’m usually thirsting after Martin Freeman, so come say hi!
> 
> So, Christmas epilogue? What do you think? Don’t be shy, let me know!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Here’s my Christmas epilogue. I wanted to do it as part of the Mystrade advent calendar but it took longer to finish than I figured, plus I’m not sure how that would have worked since it’s not exactly a standalone story. Anyway, I hope you like it!
> 
> All previous warnings still apply.

Gregory spent a great deal of his time at Mycroft’s over the next few months yet he continued to maintain his own apartment. A ridiculous waste in Mycroft’s opinion, but on the other hand he supposed they hadn’t been together all that long. Not even a full year as yet. Since Mycroft had repeatedly found his caution severely lacking where Gregory was concerned he remained quiet on the subject.

This didn’t mean Mycroft had avoided making any changes at all. He stopped actively presenting himself as an alpha by having his scent blocker reformulated to smell more beta neutral rather than masked alpha. Without warning he showed up to work with his new blocker on and watched the confused reactions of his subordinates and coworkers alike with perverse joy. Responses ranged from a mild nose crinkle to audible gasps to one person dropping their phone in shock. 

Not one of them dared to ask him about it and Mycroft reveled in their fear. A mischievous smile crossed his face as he imagined the shock he’d cause on the inevitable day he showed up with a bond bite. The subordinates who witnessed the sight gave him a wide berth as they passed him in the hallway. 

_Inevitable_ continued to amaze him long after the thought crossed his mind. As the months passed it only echoed louder and more frequently, not even a word so much as a gut feeling anymore. He’d discovered it was a phenomenon only Omegas experience one odd afternoon as Sherlock bombarded him with new facts from John’s medical journals in an attempt to chase him out of the flat. Coincidentally he’d also learned why his heat suppressants were losing their effectiveness. Mycroft had actually found it all rather fascinating up until Sherlock started in about childbirth, at which point Mycroft fled in abject horror. 

One late December morning Gregory was off work after attending his daughter's Christmas concert the night before. Mycroft had been invited but was unable to get away thanks largely to his increased workload before the upcoming holiday. Gregory had insisted he understood and it wasn’t a big deal but Mycroft felt uneasy about it all throughout the evening. 

This morning proved his feeling correct. Ordinarily Gregory loved talking about how his daughter was doing and Mycroft delighted in watching the fond expressions dance across his face as he did so. Thus far Gregory hadn’t said two words about her or anything for that matter. He stared into space as he absently sipped his coffee. “I am terribly sorry I could not join you for Katie’s concert.” Mycroft offered.

Gregory’s attention snapped back to the present. “Hmm? Oh Myc, I’ve told you it’s fine.”

“Fine has variable definitions.”

“I meant that it’s alright. It was nice to spend a little time with her, just the two of us.” Before Mycroft could argue that it quite clearly was not alright Gregory continued. “Do you really hate Christmas?”

Mycroft blinked, thrown by the sudden change in topic. “Hate is a rather strong sentiment. Why?” The reason dawned on Mycroft the moment the word left his mouth. “Did Sherlock say something?”

“Well, yes, but not recently. Years ago he mentioned it.”

“You really should stop listening to my hypocritical brother.”

Greg shrugged. “Can’t. He’s right most of the time.”

“Most, but not all.”

“It’s not just him. You never show up to the Christmas parties at Baker Street. And here it is less than a week before and you haven’t exactly decorated.”

“When do you imagine that I would have time for decorating?” Mycroft asked, colder than the winter winds swirling past the kitchen windows.

“I don’t know. Don’t you have a service or something that does it for you?”

Mycroft clenched his teeth. Was Gregory trying to pick a fight with him? He’d never done that before. “Are we really arguing about something so trivial as Christmas decorations?”

Gregory sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I think I’m tired from getting in so late. Maybe it would be better if I just went home today.”

Mycroft’s anger evaporated instantly. Thus far in their relationship Gregory had never voluntarily wanted to go home. His mind scrambled for a way to distance himself from the panic rising up his throat. A soft “Gregory?” escaped his lips before he could stop it. Gregory looked up. Mycroft could clearly tell that something was bothering him but for once he was unable to decipher the exact cause of the hurt behind those expressive eyes. 

Mycroft fought his first instinct to close himself off, cleared his throat and continued. “I don’t necessarily hate Christmas. The lead up is another story. By the time the day actually arrives it feels as though it’s been Christmas day for a month. People put an inordinate amount of pressure on themselves, then waste entirely too much time and money on an arbitrary date.”

Gregory’s expression soured further. “You aren’t exactly making a good case for yourself here.”

Mycroft refused to be baited. “However, if it’s a simple lack of holiday accoutrements that’s bothering you perhaps we could spend some time decorating.”

“Are you sure? It is your house after all.”

Mycroft lifted his head and closed his eyes, feigning cool nonchalance. “Of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.” He cracked one eye to find a tiny smile on Gregory’s lips.

“Do you even have any decorations?”

Mycroft thought about it. “I believe there may be a box or two in the attic. If you like you could go through them while I’m working today, perhaps put a few items up.”

“I think I will then.” Gregory finished off the last of his coffee. An idea bubbled up in Mycroft’s mind as to the cause of Gregory’s peculiar mood. There was another full day of governmental machination before he would be free to confirm his suspicion. He hoped Gregory’s mood would improve before then. 

\-----

Several hours later as Mycroft made his way home he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. It was just as likely that Gregory had returned to his own apartment to wallow in misery as it was that he would still be at the house. Mycroft resolved to not care either way though his heart felt like it would beat out of his chest the closer he got. _Why exactly did I sign up for this again?_ he wondered not for the first time. 

The car turned the corner and Mycroft eyed his spot on the street dubiously. He could tell it was lit up even through the privacy hedges from down the street. The closer they got the more incredulous he became. It wasn’t simply lit. It was a beacon in a sea of its sparsely decorated neighbors. 

Mycroft stared slack jawed. Every available space was taken up with some ridiculous inflatable decoration. One had Father Christmas kicking a football with a penguin. Another was a giant snow globe featuring the North Pole. Next to the car an enormous reindeer with a gift in his mouth slowly turned his head back and forth. This was just the garden! Muticolored twinkling fairy lights outlined every window and overhang. Each window ledge was decked out with white tipped greenery and a festive red bow. A large lighted wreath adorned his front door. 

To top it off there were strange people standing in his drive staring at the spectacle! They listed out of the path of the car when the driver honked the horn but they didn’t leave. One of the parents hoisted a small child onto his shoulders to allow her to see past the hedges. 

The glass partition went down with a hiss. “Sir, everything alright?” The driver prompted. He must have sat gaping longer than he thought.

“Yes, right, of course. Be here tomorrow at 9am.” He grabbed his umbrella and stepped out of the car ready to give the gawkers his patented peon scattering glare. Before he could his foot caught on something and he promptly found himself face down in a light dusting of snow. 

“Are you alright?” A voice cut across the yard punctuated by the high pitched giggling of the little girl. Mycroft ignored the question and scrambled to his feet as gracefully as he could manage. He’d tripped over a little red light shaped like a peppermint stick. The yard was completely outlined with them along with several strings of rope lights. Their glow reflected off the little bit of snow lending the entire garden a soft crystalline sparkle. Mycroft scowled at all of it and stomped on the offending light. 

As he approached the door he saw his face reflected in the multicolored balls nestled within the pine needles of the wreath. His nose, one of many areas of his body he was insecure about, featured prominently in green, red, gold, blue, and white. He couldn’t help trying to smash one of them with his trusty umbrella handle. It bounced off the plastic surface completely unaffected and Mycroft’s eye twitched.

He opened the door to a dimly lit foyer and a rich, heavenly aroma. The light came from yet more fairy lights running around the staircase railing and all the way across the second floor. Mycroft fairly slammed the door shut and removed his outwear with short angry movements. He examined his overcoat for stains and thankfully found only a few blades of grass and some dirt stuck on the front. 

What the hell had Gregory been thinking? He gave him permission to decorate a little, not turn his yard into a gaudy holiday nightmare! He could barely make out the muffled drone of the telly in the living area. He headed in that direction intent on giving Gregory a piece of his mind. All of the lights were off save the glare from the TV and the dim glow from an otherwise bare Christmas tree. He found Gregory wrapped up in a blanket fast asleep on the sofa and his anger quickly drained away. Disconcerted, Mycroft made a note to increase security around Gregory again in the very near future. He sat carefully on the edge of the sofa and Gregory stirred.

“Myc? You’re home already?”

“Yes, obviously.”

“Early day today.” He smiled softly and pulled Mycroft down next to him. It was a tight fit but they made it work. “Did you see the decorations?”

“I would have to be blind not to.” A bit of sass crept into Mycroft’s voice. 

“Oh god, you hate it.” Gregory tipped his head back on the pillow. 

“I simply wish you would have warned me you were planning to make my yard visible from space.”

He felt Gregory shrug. “I wasn’t planning on it when I started. That box of ‘decorations’ you had could barely be called that.” Gregory lifted one hand to make air quotes around the word decorations. “They have to have been up there since the ‘80's.”

“I didn’t own this house in the 80's.” Mycroft pointed out.

“Exact time period doesn’t matter, that stuff hadn’t seen daylight in years. Not one string of lights worked! So I had to go shopping. This close to Christmas a lot of things were already marked down and before I knew it I was leaving with loads of stuff. So technically, it's partially your fault.”

Mycroft chuckled. “You are reaching on that one.” He paused a moment. “Did it help at the very least?”

Gregory stiffened minutely but relaxed almost immediately. “You figured it out. Of course you did. I should be used to that by now.”

“You really should.”

“It did help a little bit, I suppose.”

“Why can’t Katie come home?”

“She found a beta friend. Apparently it’s been serious for a couple of months. They agreed to go to his parents for Christmas and come here for New Years.” He sighed. “I always knew it would happen eventually, and I’m happy for her. Still, Christmas just won’t be the same without Katie around.”

Mycroft snuggled into the space next to Gregory’s neck. “I won’t pretend I understand exactly how you feel. I can only say I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for Myc. They grow up and get their own lives. It’s the natural order of things.” He pressed a kiss to Mycroft’s cheek. “I’m sorry about taking it out on you earlier though.” 

“Already forgiven.” Mycroft kissed him back, gentle and sweet. When he pulled back Gregory followed, plainly scenting him. “I hope you realize how lucky you are. I was positively livid not ten minutes ago.”

“I do.” He hadn’t moved from Mycroft’s neck. A low rumble began deep in his throat. “Damn, why do you smell so good?”

Well, it certainly hadn’t taken Gregory very long to notice the difference. Mycroft turned his head to allow Gregory better access. “Do I not usually?”

“Yeah but…” his rumble increased in volume. “Not like this. Even with your blockers off.” Gregory's head popped up next to his. “Did you…?” 

“I did. I meant to discuss it with you but truthfully I didn’t expect the change to happen so quickly. I’ve only stopped taking them for a few days.”

“Mycroft?” softly spoken. Gregory’s eyes took on a telltale shine. “Are you serious? Are you sure?”

“Quite sure. If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I’ll have you.” The rumble turned into a snarl as Gregory shifted Mycroft underneath him, pinning him to the sofa. “Mine.”

“Yours.” Mycroft agreed. “ Happy Christmas Gregory.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Then Greg’s daughter shows up for Christmas anyway to surprise him and ends up having to stay at his empty apartment because our boys are in the middle of an intense bonding heat ;) ;) ;) So awkward!
> 
> Thank you again for reading, I hope you liked my fluffy little Christmas epilogue! Merry Christmas everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of the first fic I've ever dared to post. Thank you for reading! If you liked it or think there's something I can improve please comment and let me know.


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